Slayers, Vamps, Scoobies, Filks& Remixes
by Gojirob
Summary: From the very silly to the very serious, from Sunnydale to LA, the world of Buffy Summers and associates gets put on display in short pieces.
1. The ButtonDown Slayer

**The Button-Down Slayer**  
by Rob Morris

OCTOBER, 1998

SEACOUVER, WASHINGTON STATE, NEAR THE CANADIAN BORDER

After twenty years out of the unique and annoying bustle that Chicago had become for him, Doctor Robert Hartley had taken on a new set of patients, and they kept him very busy. Yet still, from time to time, he would accept new patients, sometimes only by way of a simple phone call. With his secretary and ally Carol's prompting, he took one all the way from the small town of Sunnydale, California.

"Mrs.--Mrs. Summers? Ye-Yes. N-No. I have--I have time. What seems to be your concern? Its--its your teenaged daughter. Well, teenagers can certainly be a handful. Have to walk on eggshells around...Me? No. I-My wife--we don't have any...No, Mrs. Summers. I don't think that necessarily means I can't help you. But--but you do. Oh-oh, you were just-just being strident again. You get that way. No, I didn't know you got that way---til you just told me. That's-that's usually how it works."

"You found out something about her, this previous summer? Oh. Actually, it was more like late May. Sort of a Spring Summers argument? No, I agree. That-that wasn't funny. No, it wasn't. I...Mrs. Summers, I conceded that it wasn't funny. You're being strident again? How-how about we knock that whole strident thing off, ya know? Your-your daughter said the same thing. Before-before she ran away. And then--after she came back. And-and when she almost ran away again. And-and when your best friend was turned into a zombie. Mrs. Summers? Oh. Joyce. Joyce? No, I think we can work with Joyce. Joyce? No, I'm realllly pretty certain we can do.....no, I'm Doctor Hartley. Now, Joyce....because I'm Doctor Hartley. Now, Joyce....because I have always been referred to as Doctor Hartley!"

"You're right I'm strident about that! You try a decade of school and odd jobs, and see if you don't get...Joyce. Wha-What did you find out about your daughter? That she likes to go around in the buff. Ohh—her name is....no, Joyce. I wasn't making intimations about her character. I don't even know her. Well, I feel you have to know someone before you can really impugn them. Yes, I'm-I'm sure I'm really a doctor. Now, you found out that your daughter is a murderer? Well, you just called her a...a slayer. Big--big S. Um, Joyce? How does that differ from a murderer? She-she kills the right people--who aren't people. Now, are they not people at all people, or are they just not people persons?"

"None of the above. Stakes. Clouds of dust. Big, ugly demons. Bigger, uglier demons. People dying pretty much right and left. Up and down. Principal is one big jerk. Gotcha. Does she have friends? They're-they're part of the problem. How? I see...Joyce? Maybe I'm a little dense, here...you could tell that. Well, be that as it may, how does helping her stay alive and kill more of these---non-people make them part of the prob....Enablers? No, Joyce. That's for an addiction, not an occupation. No, I don't care what the tapes you bought say. I-I know the guy that makes them, and he's a bigger jerk than your Principal. You know, Joyce. It seems a lot like you called down an ultimatum at the worst possible time, and she called you on it."

"Ok, Joyce. Ok. A long series of 'Duh's' don't really help us any, here. Did she-did she run off with a boyfriend, or.....oh. He's a....kind of a conflict of interest, there. He's in..she won't say where he's in. Where is she right now? I may want to speak to...oh. Is Xander Willow Oz one of those New Age bands....Joyce?"

Shrugging, Bob hung up the phone, and told Carol to send in his 6:23 PM patients. As always, the father began to argue with the son.

"Bob, Please tell him to stop trying to control every aspect of my life!"

"Robert, please remind him that he is my son, and that my efforts seek only to guide him away from a painful, pointless quest that nearly cost him his beloved wife, quite recently."

Bob hoped that Joyce Summers wouldn't try and call back anytime soon. Nick and Lacroix never took well to interruptions.


	2. A Little Magic

A Little Magic...  
by Rob Morris

She raised her defenses immediately. Not having Tara around was hard enough. But for an intruder to bypass all her bedroom's safeguards and still be in human form? That was too much for the witch to bear.

"Who are you?"

The man in the trenchcoat looked like an amalgam between Spike and Giles. He took a drag of a silk-cut cigarette, and smiled.

"I'm your intervention, girlie. See, the dimension walls aren't as thick as most people think. The first Season 6 eps just reached the BBC, and I felt compelled to try. Its magic. You're on the wrong path."

Willow let her eyes flash dark, and gestured at the arrogant Englishman.

"Go From Here."

Holding up an odd weed of some kind, the man almost yawned as the energy-ball dispersed.

"Oooh. That was a good one. But I've walked with gods, devils, angels, Fates, and The Endless, Willow. The things I've seen. The places I've been."

His smile vanished.

"The people I've done. Now, look, I'm not here to give you the standard lecture. Because you know all that magic can do, the risks. No, I'm here to talk all about a little pit of a place called Hell. Not the touristy, solitary confinement Hell. Not the Hell you can be called back from by anyone with a Ouija, although I've seen that done. No, this is Hell by Hieronymus Bosch on acid. This is the Hell that you don't ever get out of, and if you and all your friends and family beg, all it gets you is a deeper pit for daring to remind Creation of your worthless existence!"

Willow stood back, just a bit.

"I thought you weren't here to tell me the risks."

The smile again.

"That's cause its not a risk. Its a certainty. Oh, JW may wiggle you out. He's good for that. But then again, he may be sizing you up for The Big Sweep."

Willow now felt really frightened.

"What's The Big Sweep?"

The man got closer, and spoke in her ear, softly.

"Its kinda like Thanksgiving, only it comes in February and May, not just November. Guess who's the gobble-gobble?"

Willow grasped a small pin, and chanted.

"Tricephalos Eldros Cosmos Mort....."

He grasped it away, crushed the pin beneath his boot, and pushed her down.

"Calling on Old ThreeSkull?!! Are you flat out of your mind? Screw you, kid. I'm gone. One more thing, though?"

Willow was now shifting between fear and contempt. She still hadn't gotten up.

"What?!"

He threw her a cigarette.

"When you get to Hell....."

He smiled.

"....tell The First Of The Fallen that John Constantine says 'Hi'."

Willow awoke, some borrowed 'Swamp Thing' comics from Xander scattered across her room. The place was a mess, and she was wiped. She raised a finger.

"Clean."

* * *

…**Can Be a Dangerous Thing**  
by Rob Morris

Ellen.

The primeval barely-bipedal thing had actually called her 'Ellen'.

"I didn't even like that show. Or Seinfeld. Or Wings. And why did absolutely every main character on Dear John have to be such a zero-sum loser?"

If magic--or talking to herself--seemed to be getting her into trouble, of late, then a little activism never hurt anyone. After 9-11, hate crimes in general had seen an upswing, and that comment had made it crystal clear who some of the possible targets might be. So down to the local center she went.

"Excuse me? Could you take a look at this?"

It was one of the PR people, a guy down from Frisco who had a small ad agency. He was showing part of a new tolerance campaign he was working on.

"Uh--sure. By the way, my name's Willow Rosenberg."

"Adam Stephens, of Stephens and Son. Though not so you could tell by Dad's presence."

Willow looked the draft over, and nodded at the imagery approvingly.

"So--four guys are swilling back some beer, and we don't know whether they're a couple of friends or a couple of couples."

Stephens pointed at his drawing.

"I'm thinking of the caption--'Threatening, Aren't They?'. Kind of turns any witch hunts on their heads."

Willow sighed.

"No offense taken--but I really prefer people not use the WH words, ya know?"

Stephens laughed.

"Oh, you don't have to tell me. My grandmother was there, in Salem. Or was it her sister Clara? Well, someone from the family saw it all. Sorry about that. Freudian slip."

A quick reading told Willow all she needed to know.

"You're a Natural. Oh, that is so cool. No one to call upon, no real limits to your spells. No real limits, period."

Stephens sat down. His smile had faded.

"There's always limits, Willow. I can't counteract someone else's spell, for example. My older sister is way more talented than either me or our cousin Erin. We're only half-Naturals, so the effects of time on us are unpredictable. I've been contacted by a 29th Century temporal authority, on that basis alone. They don't even want my powers."

Willow was starting to sense a trend, and it was one she outright hated.

"But even within those limits, you can do almost anything. Isn't that cool?"

Adam shrugged.

"If you like that sort of thing. It can be a reality-breaker, though. My cousin Erin married an Immortal friend of the family. Aunt Peggy got angry, and changed him into a coatrack. My Mom had to intervene. All kinds of relatives were trying to end my parents' marriage as late as my fifth birthday. Some retroactively. My father lost his original physical form, which affected my conception. My sister got tired of waiting to grow up, and so magicked herself to adulthood, back in 76'. That lasted two years. Our maid got tired of fading out, and moved to Atlanta, where she no longer practices. If reality is at your whim, then is it really real?"

Willow thought she had a counter.

"Yeah, but--everybody does the whole Cher 'Gypsies, Tramps, And Thieves' thing when it comes to magic. They all say how bad it is, or too much of it is, but everybody turns right straight to it, when the needs come around. My oldest friend is also a lousy hypocrite who used a love whammy on all the women here. But hear him lecture me now!"

Adam nodded in partial agreement.

"I hear you. Even my Dad--the strongest anti-magic crusader you will ever meet, has hit the well a lot over the years. But, to be fair, it's usually to counteract someone else's prank or whatever."

"Yet--Mister Stephens--he turns to magic, just like I said."

Now, Stephens was frowning.

"Never seriously, that I know of. Except for that one day. He almost convinced my Mom to do it, too."

Willow incorrectly felt on the verge of triumph.

"See? Talk about reality? It's something we all end up wanting to alter, eventually. What about that day made him want to change reality?"

Stephens got up to leave. His last words would haunt Willow for a good long while, in any event.

"It was the day I came out."


	3. A Dream Of Anime

**A Dream Of Anime**

**By Rob Morris**

**Sail Away - Please!**

As her scepter clashed anew with his cane, Serena despaired of ever breaking the spell Queen Beryl had placed on Darien. He sneered.

"Give it up, Sailor Moon! We've already opened the portal to the Negaverse--see?"

She shrieked.

"Oh, No--how horrible! Now, there's only one way this can end! I guess Rei and the others couldn't break the spell in time."

But just then, a stream of magic hit the ensorcelled Tuxedo Mask. He shook his head, as though awakening.

"Serena?"

But she was no happier for this. The portal had been opened. There was only one way to seal it.

"Darien--my darling--close your eyes."

Crying as she chanted, Sailor Moon struck her one true love with a beam that knocked him straight into the Nega-Portal. He yelled out her name as it began to close. But she merely finished the hateful job she had begun.

"Lunnnnnarrrr Tiiiide!!!!"

She watched as the prophecy was fulfilled. True love freely sacrificed had indeed sealed the evil portal.

"But can anything seal my eyes against tears?"

* * *

Waking with a start, Buffy angrily walked over to the TV, shutting it off. Dawn glared.

"Buffy! I was actually getting into that!"

But the Slayer was adamant.

"The Sailor Moon Marathon Is Now---OVER!"

* * *

**No Need For Xander**

Xander walked through his ancestral home. His father was already a few sheets to the wind, courtesy of some strong rice wine. On the way down the stairs, he passed his oddly-British sounding grandfather.

"Xander, have you studied your swordsmanship and demonology? No, of course you haven't. Why do I even bother to ask?"

"Have your sword removed from you-know-where, Granpa."

The door slammed, as a screaming, crying Harmihone ran inside, burning.

"Its sooooo not fair! All I wanted was to go shopping in the market! Why can't I just do that?"

A disgusted Spikiyone whipped out her cigarette, and yelled at her idiot partner, her cockney accent breaking her speech into near-incoherence.

"Because you're a bloody VAMPIRE, you great sodding dope! Ooooghhh!!! Xander? Would yer gramps mind if I just staked her, and had done with it all?"

"Er---that might unleash another demon, Spikiyone. And we just cleaned up after the last one."

"Guess yer right. Damn! I should've left the shrine along with Evangelius!"

Behind Xander, a voice startled him, as did the hand that pinched his butt.

"Hi, Xander! Boy, I'd like to put you in one of my grander magic spells. You know--the kind that require disrobing?"

Xander turned quickly around.

"But Lil' Willshu? Didn't you start a relationship with Nagifaith?"

The redhead smiled, closed her eyes, and rubbed her head.

"Oh, that's right! I don't like men anymore! Thanks for reminding me. But keep that disrobing open, just in case."

In the center of the living room, Xander saw the inevitable fight. He was glad he didn't have a real ego. Otherwise this situation could easily give him a swelled head.

"Leave Xander Alone!"

Cried Princess Bufyeka ( Who, it should be noted, Xander felt massively outclassed by, despite his devotion to her ).

"Make me, Miss Popularity!"

Cried the space-pirate Anryoko.

To avoid all this, Xander went outside, and joined Princess Dawsami in watching the sun-set.

"Xander? Why don't you spend more time with me?"

"Oh, its not you, Dawsami. I'm just afraid of being called a freak for hanging out with a little girl."

Her large eyes teared up.

"But no one calls the guys who hang out with C-Ko freaks!"

Xander nodded.

"Yeah, but I think maybe someone should."

As they quietly watched the moon rise, a half-cat/half-rabbit merrily hopped past. Dawsami frowned.

"Darn! Oz got out of his cage again."

* * *

Waking with a start, the first thing he did was turn off the TV marathon.

"What a dream! It serves me right for watching that weirdo little import show, so soon after having three pineapple and ham pizzas."

Tenchi Masaki then went upstairs to go to bed, grateful that his lot was not that of Xander Harris.

"Its unquestionably a strange life." 


	4. Gunn Turns It Outside In

Gunn Turns It Outside In

by Rob Morris

"You mean to tell me that you all went and cornered Cordelia, the supposed mastermind behind it all, guns and crossbows pointed, already 99.9% certain she was the Beast's foreman and pit boss, ready to lay out the whole-'I got you figured'-Angela Lansbury deal, fully prepared to hear her taunt, titter and just generally disrespect you with smack about how she fooled us, and this, and that, and meddling kids, and version 3.95 of some obscure event we barely remember---and you didn't even bother to stop and check what Connor was up to or where he was?"


	5. The Second City Slayer

**The Second City Slayer**  
by Rob Morris

(Coffin opens on cheap-looking set; A Vampire not quite the equal of the Master or Dracula emerges)

CF: Hey, kiddies! Its me, your old pal, Count Floyd! Now, this week, on Monster Chiller Horror Theatre, we present another chilling horror tale of monsters in 'Buffy The Vampire Slayer'! Owwwooooo! (Howls insipidly) Lemme tell ya, she's she's one hot chippie! Now, in this installment, that guy James Marsters left the series, due to contract disputes--hey, he's a cheap guy, waddya want? But We found someone else to play Spike, so here we go! Owoooooo!!!

(Large Title Sequence)

JOSS WHEDON AND WOODY TOBIAS, JR. PRESENT:

BUFFY THE VAMPIRE SLAYER

VS.

DR. TONGUE'S 3-D HOUSE OF VAMPIRE BABES!

(We see in an old castle John Candy as Dr. Tongue and Eugene Levy as Bruno)

DT: (Mock-Vincent Price voice) At last, Bruno. We now possess a potion that will make every female vampire our willing slave!

Bruno: (A dumber, smellier version of Igor) Uhhh, master? Do you want me to fetch the first vampire?

DT: Right away, Bruno! Let us begin. Hahaahahah!!!

(Bruno leads Dru in by the hand; She is mad)

Dru: Wait Up! You said there'd be fine young men and demons about. I'm not even sure I want to drain you two. There are no butterflies in your ears.

Bruno: Well, you can blame Doctor Tongue for that. He makes me clean my ears once a year, whether they need it or not.

DT: Wait, my dear. Before you go--you simply have to try this special blood I made just for you. Here--try some.

(DT+Bruno lean fwd and then back, into the camera; a total of three times)

Dru: Oh, allright.

(The camera leans toward the glass, and then back, twice)

Dru: (Blank) I obey only Doctor Tongue!

(DT + Bruno laugh)

(The Summers home)

Xander: Darn, that vamp nearly got away. Say, Giles, is my stake sharp enough?

Giles: Well, we'll have to take a look at that.

(The stake is seen moving away from and towards the camera, four times)

Giles: It could stand a bit of sharpening and polish. Xander, tell me, have you seen Buffy about?

(X pulls out a slip of paper)

X: She gave me this number to call her at.

(Gives Giles the sheet about three times)

Giles: Well, are you going to give it to me, or not?

(Anja, who has been sitting quietly, sees Willow and Tara walk in)

Anja: Oh, look. Its the Von Happy Twins.

Willow: Anja, you have had this coming, lemme tell ya!

(Gestures by hand; 3-D effect again)

(We hear Anja's scream; Cutaway to a cheap rabbit outfit with head-mask appearing on her)

Anja: Ohhhhh-NOOOOO!!!

(She runs off)

Buffy: (Walks in) All right, all you mostly useless sidekicking people. Today's topic is like, adding another sidekick. eh?

(Spike comes in, played by Ed Grimley)

Spike: Oh, Slayer! The very, very worst has occurred. I mean, can it get much worse than this? I suppose it can, but then why would you possibly want it to? Doctor Tongue has completely taken Dru, and I'm feeling quite sad about this, I must say. Me and Dru are just so close, only now I fear we're not close at all!

(Buffy breaks off the point on Ed's hair; Dusts him with it)

Buffy: All right, you hosers--bring the crosses, the holy water—and the back bacon and beer, eh?

(Back to Count Floyd)

CF: Man, that Buffy can dust me any old time! She's like a super-babe or something! So be sure to wear your 3-D glasses, kiddies, because.....

(Buffy walks up; dusts Count Floyd)

Buffy: And so does the evil end.

Xander : No more Monster Chiller Horror Theatre? But what'll happen to all these low-rent movie classics?

Willow: That, Xander, is why we have a Satellite Of Love

Giles: This parody totally wigged, eh? 


	6. Council Motions

**Council Motions**  
by Rob Morris

SUNNYDALE, JULY, 2001

THE TOWN COUNCIL

Mayor Ridley, having won her first real election since the special election of Late Spring 1999, now moved to solidify the current town power structure.

"Best talk is, the Slayer is only going through the motions. Her little clique is carrying her, sometimes literally. Her lack of efforts means the tax base is eroding, and quickly."

Harold Talvin, Deputy Council Chair and a vampire, nodded.

"Its the kids. They all want to live in the graveyards, party all night. I mean, I was not going to let this one little setback close down my dry-cleaning monopoly. Damn The Slayer! Usually, you can count on her to clean out the driftwood."

Mel Johnson, Council Chair til the end of that month, shrugged.

"Well, they aren't budding Angeluses, that's for certain. And in my experience, a large bunch of stupid vampires will start to hang around the real demons. Ever see that old cartoon where the little dog hangs around the big one, jumping and yelping til he gets batted away? The demons are going to get bugged, and that means infrastructure damage the likes of which Dick Wilkins only talked about."

Ran Hajar, head of zoning, made the suggestion.

"Look. Harold's people are selective about who they take, and discreet. Their converts never get found in alleyways, etc. So let's just reduce the multiplier. Let's put together a bill to have all bodies of suspicious death--those that aren't autopsied, that is-- staked with miniature sharpened sticks. Protects the tax base, decreases the raids at the blood bank, supplements the Slayer's efforts, keeps the demons from getting antsy. Its a win-win."

With no objections heard, the side-meeting adjourned and the bill was raised in full council.

Two hours later, Mayor Ridley emerged, disgusted.

"It was bad enough when the concrete lobby kept us from buying road-material mixed with shredded tires and glass. But this?"

Hajar shook his head.

"Next time I hear George Carlin going off on politicians, I'm sending him a check! We are scum."

Johnson removed his tag.

"I'm resigning, as of now. If we can't even get a common sense bill like this passed, forget it."

Ridley pointed at the departing Councillor who had led the successful effort to defeat the staking bill.

"You! Why did you oppose such a simple and basic and needed bill as this? This is Sunnydale, butthead!"

The gaunt man turned around.

"Business. What you were proposing would have led to a prohibitive increase in our capital outlay, sending our prices sky-high, driving our potential clients to like businesses in other municipalities."

Talvin shuddered as the man walked away.

"Ya know? Undertakers just creep me out."


	7. Miss Vengeance Demon

Miss Vengeance Demon  
by Rob Morris

(To the tune of 'Mister Sandman')

The Ladies Scorned Singers:

Bum-bum-bum-bum-bum-bum-bum-bum-bum-bum-bum-bum-bum---

He was a bum-bum-bum-bum-bum- bum-bum-bum-bum-bum-bum-bum-bum

Miss Vengeance Demon  
He left us all  
Now we call to you to bring on his fall  
Give him two plagues;  
With non-infectious bacilla  
Then put him in the path of Godzilla

Miss Vengeance Demon  
Put a bomb in his phone;  
And then put jell-o;  
In place of his bones  
Please just listen and say 'Done';  
Miss Vengeance Demon, please have some fun

Miss Vengeance Demon---

Anya: What?!!?

Singers: Bring Him to hell  
Turn all his insider Buy options to Sell  
Find nasty ways to punish his meanness;  
And for goodness sake;  
Please don't say penis!

Miss Vengeance Demon  
Take all his hair;  
And when we say that,  
yes we mean down there

He just wanted me upon my back;  
Miss Vengeance Demon  
Make his spine crack

Chorus:

Bum-bum-bum-bum-bum-bum-bum-bum-bum-bum-bum-bum-bum---

He was a bum-bum-bum-bum-bum- bum-bum-bum-bum-bum-bum-bum-bum

Miss Vengeance Demon;  
Bring us his head;  
But put out his eyes;  
Before he is dead

Make his bosses think that he has embezzled;  
Make his pals think their wives he bedazzled!

Miss Vengeance Demon  
Put him in a ship's hold  
With salty sailors  
Who'll try to get bold

So turn on your misanthropy  
Miss Vengeance Demon please  
please please please  
Miss Vengeance Demon  
Set his head free

(After the show, The Ladies Scorned are sitting at a table; Anyanka  
appears)

An: Good news, ladies. I retroactively altered that loser's DNA. Now, any slut stupid enough to bear his larvae will blow right up on him. The kid's blood will be nitroglycerin!

(She vanishes; The Ladies Scorned stand up, staring in terror at their enlarged stomachs)

Lady 1: If we walk slowly, we can get to his house on time...

Lady 2: But I had jalapeno poppers!

Lady 3: I told you we should have hired my cousin!

(Jerk ex-boyfriend holds phone)

Jerk: A foursome? (Grins)


	8. Lessons Remixed

**Lessons: The Dragonball Z Remix**  
by Rob Morris

(We see Vegeta being held in a stasis field even his SSJ4 form cannot break; A morphing spirit mocks him as it cuts him, a little at a time, and the wounds are very slow to heal)

Vegeta: I DEMAND to know who and what you are! HOW DARE YOU hold the Prince of All Saiyens in such a manner!

(Majin Buu appears in his chubby form; Talks childishly)

Buu: You yell, you yell---but you soon to enter Hell!

Vegeta: More of your nonsense? Stop spouting gibberish!

(Becomes Perfect Cell; Smiles)

Cell: Gibberish or straight talk. All of it is just words.

(Becomes Garlic, Jr., who slowly shifts from troll to giant-form)

GJr: Words are largely inadequate to truly describe the wonder of one such as I.

(Vegeta smirks)

Vegeta: Hail, hail.

(Smirk fades as it shifts to become Horned Frieza)

Frieza: Poor foolish prince. His mind and being overridden by thoughts of caring and sharing, honor and goodness--family. All of it so he won't die alone and unmourned. And you will.

Vegeta: DAMN YOU!!!!

(Power burst does nothing to stasis; It becomes Evil King Piccolo)

KP: You just don't get it, do you? Up or down, right or left, descending or ascending, Yin or yang--all of it is ultimately meaningless!

(Vegeta tries to verbally stand his ground)

Vegeta: A-a warrior must better himself on all fronts, or become vulnerable.

(Doctor Gero, as a human, not a cyborg, appears as the secret head of the Red Ribbon Army)

DG: Its not about honor, vengeance, killing, mercy, damnation or redemption.

(Vegeta openly starts as it morphs one last time)

Vegeta: NO!

(We see that it has morphed into Goku, but not the Goku we know. Instead, it is Kakarotto, the Saiyen in full armor sent to destroy the Earth.)

Evil Goku: It's About Power.

* * *

**Lessons: Highlander Remix**  
by Rob Morris

(Late season Highlander; Ahrm'n, the millennial demon, has Methos trapped in a cave)

Methos: Poor accommodations. No stars, I'm afraid. I would have thought a master evil force could do better.

(The demon is appearing as Richie Ryan)

D: You of all people, Methos, should know that evil is a simplistic concept. Unworthy of me.

Meth: I agree. The boy's form is unworthy of you. He was simplistic, but he was real. He had substance.

(Demon morphs to Kronos)

D: It is all about the innate savagery of the human species. Giving them the apocalypse we all truly desire. Eh, Brother?

Meth: If he was not my brother, then you most certainly are not.

(Demon shifts to Kalas)

D: The voices of men will be raised to me, as before. They will be inadequate of course. No human song could contain my magnificence.

(Now James Horton)

D: Its not about Prizes, Mortals, Immortals, right or wrong, savagery or civilization, good or evil....

('Darkening' Duncan Macleod)

D: ...it's about Power!


	9. The Saddest Are These

**Goodbye, Jonathan**

**By Rob Morris**

* * *

**Real Time**

Andrew was in a cramped, dim little world mixed of denial and plain stupidity.

"You-you don't suppose he actually finds that slutty Slayer attractive, do you? I mean, she does guys she hates, right? So how could she not want a man like Warren--hypothetically speaking, of course."

Jonathan sat and awaited paperwork that was long in coming. The robbery had been thwarted, after all. They were harmless in the eyes of the police, and therefore no priority to process.

"I can't feel any lower."

Then he heard the officers in a frenzy.

"There's been a multiple shooting. One female victim wounded, one dead. Address in question is..."

The Slayer's place. Damn Warren if he wasn't already. Why? What was the point, now? Not that there ever had been a point, he realized anew.

"Good. I hope--I hope Warren got em' all."

Jonathan let Andrew slip back while he considered anew every wrong turn he'd taken.

*We were trying to take over the world. Warren wanted to hit on girls and beat up jocks. All in all, I'd rather have beaten up the jocks, given the orbs to the Slayer, and left town. But Warren would tell me 'Wait, Little Man--I'm not so sure that's an idea...' How the hell did I get to be the nerd among nerds?*

By not asking questions or showing spine, he knew. While Andrew still babbled, Jonathan prayed.

*God, I know I completely don't deserve it. But if you could show me that somewhere is a bigger loser than me, I'll do ten times whatever I have to to make up for what I did.*

CNN was playing, and his attention drifted to that.

"The 21-year old has confessed to planting pipe bombs across the Midwest in an effort to quote "Spread his message. Well, that message is likely to be lost due to his own actions..."

Jonathan asked to be escorted to the bathroom, having been given his sign. He stopped at the desk, however.

"Look, just ignore my friend over there. He doesn't mean to spew that anti-police stuff. He especially didn't mean the P-word. Just--go easy on him, alright, sir?"

Andrew awoke from his monologue to see a room full of cops glaring at him.

"What are you all staring at?!"

* * *

**The Saddest Are These**

In the glint of the silver in Andrew's twitchy hand, Jonathan Levinson finally saw it.

* * *

SPRING, 1999

The burly woman had the butcher blade raised over Xander. But a gunshot took it out of her hand, and stunned her enough for Buffy to send her flying. She helped Xander up, and then looked over at the one with the gun.

"Still feel like killing yourself?

The gun was hidden away, and supplementing his therapy were Jonathan's new friends.

GRADUATION DAY

Levinson tossed a vial of holy water at the vampire, who got off the blonde long enough to be staked. He then shrugged broadly.

"You brought SPRING water instead of HOLY water?"

Harmony Kendall folded her arms.

"Get away, you geek!"

Another vampire tried to take her, but Levinson caught a break and staked it when it stumbled. The blonde lost her attitude.

"Errr--please help me, Mister Geek, Sir?"

Xander's plan was working--for now.

* * *

EARLY 2000

Harris shook his head at the suggestion.

"No way. That sounds like something out of Bugs Bunny."

Buffy raised a hand, and waved him off.

"Jonathan, just tell me how it would work."

"Welll, its basically an augmentation spell. Used one way, everybody local thinks you're the coolest ever. Used another way--you could become a worldwide celebrity. I could basically make myself the ultra famous Jonathan, waltz into the Initiative, and have them spilling the beans on 314 and such. Xander's right. It is like Bugs Bunny. But no one's gonna see my tail."

The Slayer would okay this. But not before she said :

"That piece of mental imagery not necessary, Jonathan."

* * *

MAY, 2001

The wrecking ball smashed the skanky god hard. As she finally got up again, she pointed.

"You little bricklaying....what's that shadow?"

Off in the distance was Jonathan, chomping on a carrot.

"Like Anvils, Doc?"

And as the weighted wonder once again smashed the arrogant monster down, Buffy ascended the stairwells in time to stop the freak from reaching Dawn.

* * *

OCTOBER, 2001

Jonathan confirmed Willow's analysis.

"Yeah, this little bug was meant to screw with your sense of time. If you'd been deeply confused or depressed, it would have had you, Buffy...."

* * *

HARSH REALITY

His blood flowed across the demon symbol. He had never joined the Scoobies, and now never would. Vengeance on Andrew would have to wait--except for petty vengeance.

"Sorry, Jonathan--but this had to be."

"Shut--up--Andrew. I'm talking to... George Lucas's father's spirit..."

The vicious yet gullible Andrew walked right in.

"OH! What is he saying, Jonathan?"

Andrew ignored the urgings of 'Warren' not to listen, and Jonathan managed one last shot, a blow tailored for a specific enemy, and worthy in its own way of any Scoobie.

"Darth Sidious...is not Palpatine after all."

Jonathan Levinson entered the afterlife hearing his murderer screaming.


	10. Mary Tyler Moore The Vampire Slayer

**Mary Tyler Moore The Vampire Slayer**  
by Rob Morris

TEASER

(Mary Richards walks into WJM; Sees John Amos as Gordy The Weatherman)

MR: Gordy! Oh, its been such a long time!

G: Yeah, Mary. How's Lou doing?

MR: Oh, they kicked him off the Watchers' Council again. And then—he kind of kicked around the Watchers' Council. They let him back in, after that.

G: Ted still....Ted?

MR: (Sadly) yes. But we are trying. Oh, Gordy. You just look so good. You haven't aged a day.

(Gordy shifts to become a vampire)

G: No, I haven't, Slayer! And now, neither will you...

(She rushes fwd; Stakes him)

G: Well, so much for the 'Roots' sequel.

(Falls to dust; Mary sniffles)

MR: I told you not to go over to 'Good Times'!

(Opening sequence; Lou Grant's voice is heard)

LG: Its like this. Once in a while, a Slayer is chosen. Only one. Unless, you know, like when Mary choked on Georgette's cookies, and Murphy Brown got called, but she's doing movies now, so just forget her. Anyway, the Slayer goes out and faces the things you just don't want to know about. No, really. You don't want to know. She faces the forces of darkness armed only with her strength, her skills, her wit--and her spunk. I hate spunk.

(Opening credits roll; Ep begins)

EPISODE TITLE: Love Is All Around; Don't Let It Choke You

(Ted Baxter walks into the newsroom; Murray Slaughter is at the typewriter; Ted's clothes are singed)

TB: Say, Murr. Those tree-huggers may have something. That ozone layer is just about gone. I went outside this morning, and had to get into the shade, lickety-split. Come to think of it, that's been happening a lot, lately. Heh. Wonder why that is?

(Murray stops typing)

MS: Gee, Ted. Could this have anything to do with the fact that you're a vampire?

TB: What are you getting at?

MS: (Sighs) Please don't tell me that you don't know that vampires can't go out in sunlight.

(Ted pulls out a pen and notepad; Jots down)

TB: Avoid...sunlight. Thanks, Murr. You're a real pal. Nobody ever tells me about these things.

(Murray stares dumbstruck; Goes back to typing)

TB: Murray...I'm hungry.

(Ted shifts; Tries to bite Murray; Falls into agonized spasms; Then stands up, straightens himself)

TB: Sorry about that, Murr. Darned chip!

(Walks off; Murray is joined by Rhoda Morgenstern)

RM: I thought he had the chip removed.

MS: He did. I think part of his brain turned to silicon, though. Cause I know there's at least some sand inside his head.

(Mary walks in; Is confronted by a folded-arm Rhoda)

RM: I can't believe that you, my best friend, ran off and left me alone like that. I'm not letting you run away again, Mar!

MR: Rhoda, it was last night, you sprang that double-date on me at the last minute, and he was a misogynistic android!

RM: Yeah, but he was cute. When you tore him up, his friend was really offended.

MR: His friend was a Tricephalan Dragon wearing the form of a man he devoured from within!

RM: You are getting so picky, lately.

MurrS: Hey, Rhoda. How's that spell going? You were trying to summon up an image to frighten Accaltha back with, if he should rise again.

RhM: Not so well, Murr. For some reason, I keep getting an image of my mother. But I did get a call from Joe.

MaryR: That's great, Rhoda. What did he have to say?

RhM: It was during the height of the full moon. Mostly grunts and growls. But he seemed upbeat.

MurrS: So have you met anyone else?

RhM: Well, ya know...Ted's girlfriend Georgette...

MR: Rhoda? Its 1976.

(Rhoda looks sheepish)

RhM: Errr..Georgette is fixing me up with a guy she knows....prude!

MurrS: Give her a break, Rhoda. The Norman Lear shows have used up all the censorship leeway for cast regulars.

MarR: Murray? That was good work cutting off the power generator feeding the Field Beast electricity. It really turned the tide.

MurrS: (Nods) Yeah. I had it all planned, when he picked me up and threw me into the generator like that.

RhM: Nobody knows how to get tossed around like Murray.

(Lou walks in)

LG: Mary, a nest of vampires that used to be Russian mobsters are moving in. Tough numbers.

MaR: But nothing we can't handle, right Mister Grant?

(Lou looks at the document on them)

LG: Actually, they specialize in taking little groups like ours apart. I give us 1 in 3, tops.

RhM: Lou, you're such an optimist.

LG: Well, anyway, we'll hold a strategy meeting on the set while Ted makes the newscast.

MaR: In front of cameras that will be broadcasting our every word? Why there, Mister Grant?

MurrS: That's easy, Mary. Nobody watches us while Ted is on. Even the -demons tune out.

LG: I better check out Sue Ann's show.

MarR: She better not use the P-word again.

RhM: I could use some of the P-Word. I just haven't figured out WHICH P-word.

(Mary's glare to Rhoda again conveys '1976')

(Sue Ann's show comes on the monitor)

Anncr: Now its time for Sue Anyanka Nivens, WJM's Happy Vengeance Demon!

(Betty White comes on the screen, smiling)

SA: Hello, you pathetic little wronged ones. Many of you dear losers have written to me asking how to get vengeance that only makes the target aware of your displeasure, rather than just finishing them off. While this is rather a wimpy, weak-kneed approach to dealing with these lying cheating sacks of mobile scatological garbage, your Happy Vengeance Demon is here for you, even though you don't remotely deserve me. And you don't. Now, before I get to a method that uses common household items like lemon juice, funnel seeds, furniture polish and an old showerhead, let me advise you women on what you can really do to improve your nearly worthless lot in life. Find a real man like my Lou. No only is he kind, considerate, and a real hunk, but he has the largest, most lovely, simply beautiful....

(Lou switches off the set; Phone rings)

LG: Yes, sir. No, the public is not interested in my personal situation. No, sir. It won't happen again. No, sir. I have no interest in verifying her claims.

MarR: She reallllly has to stop doing that.

RhM: What's worse is, my Ma taught me that same vengeance spell. The showerhead never sprays straight, and the funnel seeds have got to be fresh.

MurrS: So?

RhM: So there are no fresh funnel seeds. They only make them to stick in spice racks.

(Ted bursts out, growling)

TB: My chip is out, and now I'll kill you all!

(Lou glares)

LG: Ted? Get back in the studio or I'll put the chip back in.

TB: You're not a surgeon.

LG: That's right.

(Ted shifts back)

TB: Sorry, guys.

(Georgette walks in with plasma in bags)

G: Teddy, I brought you your lunch. On my way here, I saw beautiful shiny people singing to a disabled boy on top of broken pinball machines.

TB: Sorry, people. Georgette is, ya know, a little...(whispers) nuts?

(Georgette gets upset)

G: I am not! I saw 'Tommy' by The Who at the movies.

(Storms out)

TB: Poor kid. Last week, she said she saw four Brits riding around in a Yellow Submarine! Sometimes, there's just no talking to the insane.

MurrS: And no one knows that like us, Ted.

(Ted leaves)

MaR: Mister Grant, before we go on the air, I think I'll do a little patrolling. The snow is blocking out the sun, anyway.

LG: Alright, Mary. But I have some advice before you go. Now, if you see any vampires....

MaR: Yes?

LG: Kill them.

MaR: Errr...is that all?

LG: No. Don't let them kill you.

MaR: You're a conscientous Watcher, Mister Grant.

LG: I know, I know. But I take my job seriously.

(We see a montage of images; Mary in the market hits a vamp with a loaf of bread before staking; Mary jogs, catches up with a vamp, stakes it; Uses her hat to decapitate the old woman who glares at her as she throws it)

(Mary now sees a crowd running; Behind them is a floating, dark-eyed Rhoda)

RhM: Don't try and stop me, Mary!

(Mary looks concerned)

MaR: Rhoda? What's wrong?

(She screams out)

RhM: My Mother is coming to visit! My magic is never good enough for her, and I know she's going to try and fix me up!! AAAAHHHH!!!

(She floats by)

MaR: This happens every time Ida visits.

(Has her meeting back at the newsroom; Ted drones on)

TB: And in this reporter's opinion, Dracula should have been stopped at the border, where a routine check would have revealed he had no passport. Just what are our tax dollars going for, anyhow?

(Back at home, Mary sees Bess Lindstrom)

BL: My Mom and Dad left suddenly. They told me to give you this note, Aunt Mary.

(She opens it)

Mar: *Dearest Mary. Since you remain unmarried, you'll surely have time to take care of Bess while Lars and I are away for a year. Try 'not' to do that unladylike slaying in front of her. Toodles!*

(They both stare at note)

Mar: PHYLLIS!

Bess: Mom!!

(Frustrated, they go inside. Mary finds a letter)

Mar: Oh, it's from Angel in New Rochelle.

* * *

NEW ROCHELLE

(We see Angel enter his home. Sitting on the couch are Cordelia, Fred, Gunn, with Wes standing up)

ANNCR: The David Boreanz Show!

(The 'DVanD' Music plays; Angel trips over ottoman stool on floor, Everyone concernedly helps him up)

Anncr: With Charisma Carpenter, Alexis Denisof, Rose Marie and Morey Amsterdam!

(Gunn looks at screen)

Gunn: Do I look ANYTHING like either Buddy Sorell or Mel Brooks?

(Ep Title on screen) ARMAGEDDON PRETTY UPSET


	11. This Mortal Clay

**This Mortal Clay**

by Rob Morris

**LA, AI, 2K**

In a time before resurgent dark sides, insta-grow sons, fallen Powers and after ex-girlfriends stayed in their own environs, there was the need to make a buck, and that meant a caseload.

"The dog...talks to your son?"

There was something odd and off about these people. They were almost too good, and they didn't quite look real. Even the subsumed voice of Angelus was silent in him, too weirded out to urge they become a midday snack.

"That's correct, Mister Angel. Oh, such a nice name."

"Eh-huh. Mister and Mrs. Hansen, are you certain that your son's dog talks?"

"Why, yes. He exhorts our son to stay true to our faith and all its tenets. But we're concerned that one day, he might teach him bad lessons instead of good."

That, Angel had to admit, was always a possibility. Even if what lived in the dog or as the dog was now being benevolent, anything could change that and likely would.

"Um. Well, let me meet the boy and his dog. I have a kind of sixth sense for these things. But--is your family into Gumby and Pokey? Because there's something about the way you look..."

Mrs. Hansen smiled.

"Gumby is such a nice, well-behaved boy. We like having him over."

Angel got up from his desk.

"Why didn't Cordelia see this coming?"

He walked out, and saw exactly what he expected as the Hansens' son sat with his dog. Angel sighed.

"Just...great."

The boy smiled, looking just as odd as his parents.

"Hi, Mister!"

The dog looked up at his master. He already didn't like the ensouled vampire.

"Please don't let him separate us, Davey!"


	12. Buffy Unknown

**Buffy Unknown**

by Rob Morris

**Outside the Sunnydale pit, 2003**

The nearly-mortal wound. The taunting First. Willow's spell remaking the power as something to be shared. It all knocked the last pieces of the puzzle away. Spike had said it, after all. I wasn't brought back right.

I'd always held William in affection. Like Xander, he understood how to push away the nonsense of the life they all lived, and get down to its basics. Had I better been able to handle Gen-X hormones, my time with Spike might never have occurred. But, we did all protest for sexual freedom. Hurrah that we won, if anyone did. But that's how it really goes, right? You take what you can. Oh, baby. I never understood. I never knew how thin the line really was, till I was called back over it.

Holding the scythe makes it easier to remember, somehow. Willow chanting over her grave, trying pointlessly to call back a spirit that was both at peace and totally exhausted. Ultimately, I tried to nudge you back, knowing somehow what was to come and how needed you were. I felt safe, right? The spell wasn't intended for me. Now, I realize my error. See, I had already been brought back. By Dawnie. Sweet, beautiful thing, mine so short a time. Her spell had been disrupted, but never cancelled. I only lacked a body, and the urn drew me in like a straw in a hurricane.

The instincts were there when I got back, but being the Slayer is so much more than instinct. They all kept waiting for me to fire up again. I'll chalk up Rupert's not tumbling to it to distance. I'll chalk Willow's lack to self-absorption. Tara did a direct read on me, though. Did she know and keep that from me? If so, bless her. I would have cracked wide open at that time, had I known. Did The First know? Tough to say. But that could be why it never taunted me as Joyce. A wedge to play, like the song in Spike's head.

So it was that all the little things--the pompous speechmaking, the pointless ultimatums--Hell, I'm surprised I didn't catch on. At least now, I can be better at taking care of Dawn. I have some mixed results experience. Will I ever tell the others what happened? Maybe someday. But Xander and I both agreed to let her confidence and stability grow before attempting to put back his eye. If she can handle that without problems, then she'll be ready to know and handle the truth without digging up another urn.

Buffy Summers is dead. I may not be the ideal replacement--after all, she was supposed to be mine, technically speaking. But I am here, and I will, with God's grace and the help of all of her--all of our--friends, prevail. Angel I will handle another decade. Oh. he'll be happy. Yeah.

* * *

The bus was quiet.

"Buffy?"

"Yeah, Dawn?"

"Its message aside, do you really think that when I saw Mom, it was The First, playing with me?"

Buffy looked over, her eyes gentler than ever towards the young woman.

"Trust me on this one, Dawnie...."

She fought back a gulp.

"First or no first, what you saw was not the ghost of Joyce Summers. I can guarantee it."


	13. Willow Unknown

**Willow Unknown**

by Rob Morris

She moved into me while I was on the hillside. Xander had taken all the bolts he could, and I had largely overcome Giles' little magical virus trick. I was really gonna do it.

**Excuse me, young lady. Just why are you doing this?**

It was the demon. The one whose power I was feeding, to bring the world down.

"Why are you questioning me?"

**Hey, who woke who up, girlie? That's your friend on the ground, right? How could you do that? Do you have any idea what I'd give to have a friend like that?**

"Hello! You are a topmost demon? You had legions at your command."

**Fawning servitors. Feh! The loyal ones were too stupid to run when the quake hit. The others all got hired out by that Master jerk, to get rid of his precious barrier. But I never had a friend. You, moron--you have plenty!**

She knew which buttons to push, I'll give her that.

"They aren't any of them true friends. They tried to protect Tara's killers."

**Kid, I just walked in to this mess, and I know better. Buffy goes over the top, you all pull her back. Xander straps a bomb to himself, you all cut it off him. You calm each other down when the bad stuff hits. Only difference is, you are better than they are at talking nonsense! In Mrs. Tansen's debate class, some of the arguments you use to support your actions would have gotten you an automatic fail for 'faulty or circular premise'**

"Look, I'm wanting to blow things up, here. Are you gonna help me, or not?"

That's when I felt her enter. Just my luck. Most imprisoned demons stew, waiting eternities for a second shot at ripping creation a new one. I have to get the one who had a freakin' epiphany, and now appreciates friends, hearth and home.

**Not. Now get down on the ground, and you hug that boy who loves you so much, he let himself be pantsed rather than let it happen to you.**

So Xander held me, thinking that he had saved the world, and Giles lay back in the Magic Box, thinking that he had. She made me--MADE me—keep on apologizing to Buffy and Dawn. In England, anytime my attention would wander, she'd practically snap my neck back to the lessons.

Okay, so she was some help against The First. Told me some interesting if mostly useless stories about its old antics. But she was with me the entire time, except for LA, doing the backseat thing---she has family in LA, and they don't get on. Oy, when I did the scythe, it was all:

**No! Trace your power AROUND the weapon. You sooo do not want to tick this thing off. I was there when Celia--that's the lady in the crypt who was so rude about Buffy's name--forged this, and some of the people she invoked--by name, mind you--...**

I am the most powerful individual Wiccan who has ever lived. Even Buffy said so. But I would now trade all that to escape one simple, mind-numbing fact. A fact of my existence that regularly makes me want to scream.

I have two mothers.

**Oh, and that reminds me. Did you even bother to call Sheila and tell her the town went away? When's the last time you scheduled a dinner with her? And don't bring the girlfriend with the pierced tongue. There's a nice one in the back--ahh--she's got an axe-mark on her shoulder, but at your age, can you be so....**


	14. Xander Unknown

**Xander Unknown**

by Rob Morris

**THE ROAD OUT OF CALIFORNIA, 2003**

The schoolbus came to a halt. The large man in the road, known to most, was no mere man. The blond-tressed thunder god walked up to the door.

"I wouldst speak with the one thee calls Alexander Harris, and I would do so with all due dispatch. Hail to Thee, Ye Slayers, and all praise to Buffy, scourge of the Transylvanian Fiend!"

Buffy gulped.

"We really only met the once."

As Xander waved a weak, hopefully temporary goodbye, Kennedy nudged a dazed Willow.

"I'll say it. Muscles that size get the attention, I don't care who you are. Could even grab my attention--make a smart girl wander off. Waddya think, Will?"

"He's always had my attention."

It took Kennedy a moment to realize Willow didn't mean Thor.

"Hey, you'll see him again."

Thoughts of doing without the one who she had known since before they could think had the wiccan very upset indeed.

"I just better."

Faith stood up, looking enraged.

"B, there are like twenty-five Slayers here, Hello? We could have taken Blondie-Boy, stead' of letting one of the best people we know get taken off for God knows What!"

Buffy handed the Scythe to Faith.

"See this? Powerful, right? Well, that was Thor, Faith! He probably could use this for a toothpick. He's an Avenger, and he's a god. A real one, the likes of which could pull Glory's hair and not even get a glare from her about it. And if we did take him down? Peeps, Faith. The weakest Asgardian is as strong as us, and the weakest Avenger fires deadly accurate arrows that could take down a skyscraper. So we wait. We wait, and we wait, because against him, even Dark Willow would be laughable."

Willow let this choice comment go, largely because she suspected its basic truth. When it came to raw power and skill, Thor was the proverbial iceberg. Only Giles was not speaking out loud, watching the rapidly retreating figures in the distance, held aloft by a whirling hammer. He muttered.

"One-Eye? No--it just couldn't be."

In the desert, far enough away from any manner of eavesdropping, Thor put Xander down. Harris shrugged, and then finally spoke. He just didn't speak at all like Xander.

"Why hast thou come? Speak, thunderer. Mine patience, it is known, has certain limits, limits thou wouldst do well not to test or tease at."

Thor, for his part, dropped to a more colloquial style of speech.

"Hello...Father."

'Xander' calmed a bit.

"I am well pleased to see thee, my eldest bloodson. Yet my time among these heroic mortals is far from done. And my ways of infiltration are more subtle than thine own. Better far to work as one unseen than an icon for their media to play with."

Thor half-smiled.

"You let yourself be tossed about by a troll."

"Aye, yet also did I draw demons away from the Slayer, remained an anchor to the Witch, raise them up through means hidden and weird, and focus their wandering eyes pon the battles at hand. Through the grim images I fashioned as 'parents', I made the Slayer feel better concerning her own. Through charms held back, I wooed the worthy Cordelia away from brainless friends. Foolish Angelus, trapped in the soul of the champion, still does not comprehend why he did not slaughter young Buffy, while she lay in hospital wih influenza. While it was that watching young Willow grow was near a source of pride to me as watching you. Amora's power shines in her line, as surely as Siegfried's line shines in Buffy. As to Dawn? Perhaps one day it is I will share with her alone who I am. The wily Watcher catches on from time to time--and must be made to forget. My time with mortals hath been as productive as thine own--with fewer smashed cities, I'd wager."

"Yes, Father. But--you were tossed about...by a troll."

Odin sighed, but at no time assumed his true form.

"How is thy brother?"

"Oddly, we two get along better when thee are not about. Plus, it is that these online wargames intrigue the trickster to no end."

He looked away from his son.

"What of Anya?"

"By thy command, she is dwelling in Valhalla. Hela was greatly upset, but now she and Anya are swapping vengeance stories, and all seems well."

Odin pointed again.

"Not before 2063, my son. I wish to see the Vulcans arrive. Then Balder may stand down."

Thor smiled, and began to spin Mjolinir.

"A day we all await, All-Father. My Father."

Back at the bus, Buffy stared at the disappearing thunder god.

"Xander, what did he want with you?"

The mind of the infinite had a quick answer.

"Sometimes, somebody, ya know, messes with his powers, so he wanted tips on how to get away from big-bads, and figged that the mortal member of the Scoobies was a good place to start."

Willow came forward and hugged her best friend.

"Stuck-up creep! He messes with you again, I'll take on him and his whole stupid family, Odin included."

Giles shook his head.

"Willow--really. Odin? He is a primal source of--"

"I'd do what I'd have to, Giles. For Xander."

Xander smiled, and held up her chin to look at him.

"You'd kick his sorry ass."


	15. Giles Unknown

**Giles Unknown**

by Rob Morris

I would so like to say that it was Ethan's egging me on, but that would be a lie. Perhaps if we shared more than a distant blood-connection, he'd have that kind of hold on me. But I was curious to ask the spirit about all of its century-old mysteries, and so I greedily invited it in. I then knocked Ethan cold, found a scalpel in an old chest of drawers, and sought them out. It is a sin I suspect I will never be forgiven for.

With the coven's help, I tamed the tiger, but can never truly expel it. My cutesy, tough-guy nickname became so damned accurate in those dark times. I am able to placate the killer by hunting only vampiric prostitutes, like those sought out by Riley Finn. When Buffy hunted the lot of them down, I was nearly livid. But the next town over had a nest. Most towns do, really. The spirit rather likes not having to dispose of the bodies.

My only problem is avoiding paid-for women entirely. It isn't their fault. But this ancient killer, this disease I deliberately caught in my wasted youth cries out to see them destroyed in hideous ways. I so feared that while Buffy had run away, she had fallen into that life. The killer would have waited until the Council's test, then let her die, or made that scenario even more deadly. The First made horrific use of its knowledge of my crimes. Xander was thankfully the only one to notice how truly distracted and 'not there' I was throughout the final battles. It was on a non-stop tear with me, shifting into not only the girls it had taken while in me, but all of the old victims from Whitechapel. I had to act listless, pretend it wasn't there, never respond. I imagined I must have looked like a poor contract player made to show up, lacking all enthusiasm.

Now the taunter is gone, its goal so multidirectional it never thought to tell Buffy my hidden truths. For now, it also seems the killer is exhausted, yet I know how easily he is roused.

"Mister Giles?"

It was one of the Neo-Slayers, her name at this point hard to remember.

"Yes?"

"Sir, I just wanted to thank you all again for taking us in. The house, this bus. Despite the overcrowding, it sure beats life on the streets."

She sniffled a bit, losing her composure.

"You have *no* idea what I had to do to survive."

I have since been locked in my room here at the motel for a solid week, doing 'research'. I got the young lady to Buffy, claiming she needed protection from an unknown demon. I only wish it were a lie.

Yours Truly,

Ripper.


	16. Angel Unknown

**Angel Unknown**

by Rob Morris

She was twice as worthless as me, and by that I mean she combined Liam's care-not attitude about life with Angelus' animal cunning. But she wasn't a demon. No, she was merely that one we all know. Her or him, she was just that one you were with and then really wished you hadn't been. We've all been there, but it shouldn't surprise me that in my world, it had to be more than that.

When she loudly announced that she was pregnant, it was possibly the one time Liam was given the benefit of the doubt. Father berated my stupidity in being with her, but in the same breath conceded that with this one--I've done my best to forget her name--there was no way of ever being sure that the baby was mine. Since I was no great catch, her father didn't come around with a blunderbuss, cutlet, or whatever fathers came around with close to three hundred years ago. The crisis had passed, and to celebrate--surprise!--Liam got really piss drunk. It was this particular binge which led to my first being sighted by Darla. But before the other mother of my child moved in, the claimant came and pointed at me. She swore that all would know my shame, for not only would her boy be named Liam, but so would all boys of her line. I think I burped in response. Her threats didn't rate a belch.

I think its worth noting that, upon discovering she was leaving Ireland, a slaughter-minded Angelus let her. I can't be sure, but I think even he dreaded hearing her whiny voice again. Understand. A vicious killer who likes to laugh at his prey so hated this one woman's voice, he let her and an innocent baby--possibly mine-- go free. He perhaps thought about sending someone to do it--but they might have brought her back with them. The song in his heart as he killed our family and friends would have been muted by her whining, or the memory of it.

It was only much later, well after Drusilla brought a potential new convert, that I started to make the connection. A family that converted to Protestant upon hitting London. A genrtified clan that may have risen entirely upon an ancestress' clever lies. A demand that all boys of the family be named Liam. Of course, in England, Liam isn't Liam. Dumb. Dumb. DUMB! Looking back, the timing was right for the baby to have been mine. By that point, no one who wasn't as drunk as me would have had her. All of which might explain why I've never been able to fully ditch him. Its the blood. Its always the blood. Between him and Connor, I really hope Buffy never calls me with a 'by the way' about our one and only time together. Because I've had so far above enough, I'm considering having my undead tubes tied, just to be sure.

Then in he walks.

"So. How's the body hunt going?"

"The same way it was when you asked an hour ago."

"You could try a little harder, ya know. You are my grandsire, after all."

I grab my head.

"Spike, please don't call me that."

God, roast me in the deepest dankest pit you have available. But never let him find out. I haven't been that bad--I hope.


	17. Andrew Unknown

**Andrew Unknown**

by Rob Morris

Willow was very skeptical of his request.

"Andrew, past life regression is for people with solvable problems."

The remaining member of the Troika stood firm.

"Buffy called me for the dog who's always begging for Snausages in the commercial. I just want to find out if I ever had something going for me."

Buffy shrugged.

"Okay, I apologize. That dog is way cooler than you."

Xander brought up an obvious point.

"You may think you were Napoleon, or somesuch. But dude--you were probably like Agnar The Piss-Boy or like that. Just let it go."

But Andrew was adamant, so the regression began til a pivotal life was found. Willow tried to speak with the past life-being.

"What do you do?"

"I--look for something."

"What are you looking for?"

"What is mine. A thief stole it. It was very valuable."

"How valuable are we talking?"

Andrew's eyes opened, looking for all the world like sickly green lamps. His teeth seemed pulled back and serrated. He was now actually scary.

"Pre--eeee--cioussss."

* * *

**Warren Unknown**

**SUNNYDALE HIGH, 1997**

If I could just find her, all of it would be made right.

Today's the day I'm going to tell her that I love her, and that for her alone, I want to become a new man. Leave all the hateful crap Dad filled me with behind forever.

She has no clue as to just how perfect she really is. Not a cheergirl, female jock, brain or anything that's supposed to grab you. She just is. And I won't have to fight anyone. Because no one else sees her beauty. Warren the angry geek will go away for this goddess walking. I won't dominate her, because how could I any more than she has me, just by being who she is?

If only I could find her, our happily ever after could begin at last. If only I could find her. On the verge of giving up, I call her sweet, wonderful name.

"Marci! Marci Ross!"


	18. A Page Right Out Of History

**A Page Right Out of History**  
by Rob Morris

**THE TOWN OF BEDROCK, ONE MILLION YEARS AGO**

Fred rolled his eyes. He dreaded these weekends alone with Barney. Over the years, the kids had gotten settled in with their family, and dealt very well with the stress of life in Hollyrock. Wilma had joined the City Council, though her advocacy of Bronze over Stone had gotten her labeled a radical on occasion.

"Hey, Fred? Don't ignore me. Its rude."

Betty, accepting that her husband wasn't quite all there anymore, made a good go of catering, using all the recipes she and Wilma had made over the years.

"Barney, I'm working on the car. On my only day off, might I add? I don't have time for this."

Fred himself had founded his own quarry, after Mr. Slate had dug his one level too deep, never to be heard from again. It took almost all his time, so Barney was even more of a nuisance than when he was on a kick about stealing Fred's breakfast, all those long years.

"C'mon, Fred. This is one of the big 'What-If's' of all existence."

Barney had just plain gotten weird. His disability pension was massive, so it gave him all kinds of time to annoy people. The grandkids had actually asked Fred to take Granpa Barney off their hands for four weeks as their Christmas, Birthday, and Stonecutters Day's presents.

"No, Barn. Not even close. Plus, the man is a friend of ours. His family's stayed at my house, and vicey-versey. Cross-time or no, we get on just fine."

Nowadays, the only rude question Wilma's mother asked Fred during visits was if he had brought Barney. That really had to say it all.

"You're scared of the implications of the issues I raise. Just like all the others."

Fred stopped his work and sighed. Betty would be home in two hours, and sometimes the only way to get around Barney was to plunge in headfirst. By the time Barney really got going, Betty would bail Fred out, a meatball hoagstone in hand as a thank-you for doing this.

"Okay, Barn. But before we start, I need to know one of the parameters."

The increasingly disturbed man nodded in triumph.

"Shoot."

Fred fought off saying, 'don't tempt me', for fear of hearing Barney's stupid laugh yet again. Instead, he asked his question.

"Do George Jetson and his friends have weapons?"


	19. The Goode Sainte Anyanka

**The Goode Sainte Anyanka**  
by Rob Morris

ENGLAND, 1420

He stares over at her, he does. Every day at noonemeal, their eyes meet. Now, the gossips tell me I have aught to be concerned of. He does not lie with her nor any other. Well, there was that little whore I sent him, while he fought by Lancaster's side. Mother did say that the trampes we send them mean we still hold their shorte hairs.

Oh, but she came back, crying of true love, and the childe she would bear for him, singing of his nobility. I know well of his nobility. It is why I trapped him, with whelp of my own. The red-haired thing he stares over at did not think of such schemes. The little whore did not think of them soon enough, and she and her unmade whelp fertilized my garden unknown to any. If she meant to live, she should not have told me of her plans.

But still the other ladies say, you have his bed, you have his purse, and your heirs will take what he has. He works for you, is not overfond of ale, does not strap you unless struck himself in the presence of others, and even keen eyes see him straying only with his eye. Then they laugh and add that they should have thought to trap him. But again, no one else did. I own him, all of him, and that includes his eye. He need not love me. He need only attend me, and he has failed in that.

So it was that I began to walk in low places, faking that I was a sot, bemoaning my fate. As sure as the tales speak, she was beside me, bantering away on men's failings as she queried me. Oh, she played coy, but every woman of brains knows the Sainte Anyanka, though I wager she is no angel, and she has no feast day. But she will give me my feast day. Straining careful to make my talk seem all bedlam, I arrived at what I wished to happen.

But my plans ran a cropper, when I told that only his eye did stray. Bluntly and crudely for a sainte, our kindly Anyanka asked me whether his member knew any woman but me. When I said that it did not, she allowed me no further explanation and vanished. I was a fool, for I had surely forgotten that Sainte Anyanka concerns herself only with a man's physicality. So I waited a long, hateful year, to make her forget me any at all, and it is said that she is greatly forgetful in any wise. In that year, my goode husband kept on his path, and kept to the looks he gave the fire-hair, failing me utterly in that one way.

But sure as mid-month is the time to trap a husband, she was in that same low place when the year had passed, and our sainte had showed the stories were all true. This time, I made my goode husband a ribald, his member having member-ship in every orifice that every woman for the whole county might have. I even mentioned that his sister dreaded his visits, and he has not sister, nor even lady cousin! He had once been well and meet, I described, till red-hair cast her spell. My heart jumped as she spoke her three little words, thrice over.

*It Is Done, It Is Done, It Is Done*

When next their eyes met, the unspoken passion overcame the two, as was my plan. Scandalously, he mounted her there in the tavern, going at it while the two burst aflame, unable to stop. It is said they passed while smiling still, but few saw this, so I am near to satisfaction. The wench's parents are even found out as heretics, who feigned Christian conversion when the expulsion orders came, centuries back. How complete I am in this!

Oh, my boys are not what they were, tis' true. No local girl will have them, for fear of a curse. They are hired and considered fit only for the basest work, stead' of the possible knighthood that had been their destinies. And they drink too much mead, as well as too much ale. Yet for all this, they now have more time to attend me, and this is greatly pleasing. No one at all connects this to me. They think that this sour luck is merely the deserved lot of the boys that are Harrys.

I, Goodie Corrie, praise and bless you, Sainte Anyanka. I Pray thee, do not ever change. So pressed are you with such singular concerns, you are so very easy to lie to.


	20. Predictable Patterns

Predictable Patterns  
by **Rob Morris**

MAY 1ST, 2004

Xander paced Angel's office and was fuming.

"Just how long do you intend to hold me here?"

Angel shrugged.

"When Giles and I have had a few hours of conversation that clarifies  
everything instead of him just lobbing accusations, you'll not only leave here,  
you'll do so with the pick of my cars. I'm not looking to start in, Xander."

"What makes you think he'll react any better to hostage-taking? Look, Angel. We  
don't get along, no news there. But I don't know anything about Giles and you.  
I avoid Andrew like the plague, and I don't know about him and his all-Slayer  
band. God, he actually said 'Check The Viewscreen Uhura?' Slayers or no, I'dve  
kicked his ass for that alone. Point being, Giles has pulled this crap before,  
not telling Buffy something or other. And he got weird after the Bringer nearly  
cropped him. I don't even know if he'd answer your call to save me, if that's  
what it came to."

Angel bit down. Grabbing someone out of Disneyland, even someone with whom he  
bad blood, just didn't feel even remotely right. But he felt had to draw Giles  
out, end the nonsense.

"Question. You're sure Buffy knows nothing of this?"

"I'm sure. She'dve told me."

"You sure she'dve told you? I mean, you're the closest of friends, but its not  
like you're...."

Xander's remaining eye rolled just a bit. Angel's two good ones went wide.

"Well, at least you're an upgrade."

"Speaking of which, where is Bleach Baby?"

Angel sighed. He would have to let Harris go. Justifying this wasn't in him.

"Taking a break from babysitting Illyria. She's--one of the results of Giles'  
wall of silence."

Not really true, he knew. But the feeling that Willow could have saved part of  
Fred wouldn't leave the souled vampire. But whatever had occurred, the  
impatient Old One now made herself known.

"Angel! I have two questions that you will answer immediately."

Maybe it was the car,and maybe it was a slight sympathy over frustration with  
the secretive Giles, but Xander just sat and waited while the two had it out.

"Two questions? Make them fast, Illyria. I'm maybe expecting a call."

"Very well. My first question is : When will you restore me to my rightful  
powers and place?"

Angel sighed.

"And the second question?"

She batted her eyes at Xander.

"Who is your very attractive friend?"

While she twirled her hair, Angel looked at a sheepish Harris and puzzled,  
asked a question.

"Still?"


	21. Not A Plea

**Not a Plea**  
by Rob Morris

I can still the look of dumb shock on her face as you set her aflame. Hallie thought she was so damned sophisticated. But she was just another hooker, knifed by her pimp. D'Hoffryn, do even you have any clue how many prostitutes I've avenged? If that nice Mister Wells hadn't been so creative in pursuing and finishing off Bloody Jack, you would never have believed what I had set up for that little surgeon.

How very damned odd to know that I can depend more on the man who ran out on me last year than the one who gave me power last millennium. Xander fetches whatever I ask him to from the storage I rented, after The Magic Box closed. I always ask for six items, one I need and five random ones. You'll never see it coming.

I wonder, when you can't teleport anymore, if any of 'your girls' will come to your aid? I'm giving you straight to Buffy, then, bound up and your banes all well researched. Willow will be helpful, but I'm not depending on her. I am keeping something handy to stop her from maybe freeing you. Nothing bad. Just something certain.

How DARE you forget that I knew vengeance before you ever took notice of me? Olaf was all my work. What Willow does with computers, I did with herbs, and my knowledge has only increased. There'll be no flexing of your mystic muscles, then. I'll be aiming your essence straight at whatever sponsors you have, as a weapon. There'll be no one left to avenge you.

I have friends. You have subjects under an iron hand. My most naive friend is Dawnie, who'd prolly still have a torch shoved up your backside before you could get your first taunt out. If Hallifrek meant nothing to you, then no one does. That will be your final undoing. And to some extent, I know which of your 'stable' will just gallop off as your barn burns, down to the ground, and then down to hell, and then down to the chaoplasm that may or may not lie beyond hell.

You severely misunderstood me, D'Hoffryn. Those last words you heard were not a plea.

You Should Have Killed Me.

**JUNE, 2003, A MOTEL IN COLORADO**

**Poolside**

Xander opened his good eye and looked up. Buffy was standing next to D'Hoffryn. She had the scythe.

"Say the word, loverboy."

"Sokay, Buff. Let him say his piece. I'll be cool."

With a definite glare at the Chief Vengeance Demon, Buffy left the two alone.

"You two?"

Xander sat up.

"Slayers are hormonal, so I don't know for how long. What's it to you?"

D'Hoffryn chuckled.

"Well, its just that there's this one alternate reality where you two turn out to be twi...ahhh, long story. Besides, the version of me there is something of a wuss."

"D'hoffryn? Point of visit being?"

He raised and shook a finger.

"Yes. I'm here for Anyanka's last treasure."

Xander shrugged.

"Anyanka is about a thousand or so miles away, and five miles straight down. She is both thoroughly smushed and bifurcated. I looked the word up. Also, the Initiative firebombed the pit before flooding it with Holy Water. She's gone, D'Hoffryn. Your boys never got her."

D'Hoffryn turned away.

"She would have given you the location. I want it."

Xander sighed, went to his room, and produced a scrawl with coordinates on it. He gave it to the unwanted visitor.

"Here."

Xander sat back down. D'Hoffryn shook his head.

"No threats?"

"She's gone. My talking big won't change that. But if you want a threat--keep your stable away from the Neo-Slayers. Buffy and Faith know how to use that scythe."

Xander then spoke in a high, squeaky voice that clearly unnerved the demon.

"Just ask Caleb."

After he vanished, D'Hoffryn saw that some of the coordinates were chronal in nature.

"Hiding it in time, Anyanka? Please."

Every vengeance demon had a last treasure trove, a nest egg of some sort, be it power, spells or money. Hallifrek had owned a whole network of Auntie Anne's in malls across the West Coast. He could only guess what Anyanka had set aside. Probably not money. She had only recognized that very late in life.

**1952, LAGOS ISLAND**

D'Hoffryn continued to follow the traces of Anyanka as he went around. He also rolled his eyes.

"Putting me this near to Bikini Island in the early 1950's, Anyanka? WEAK!"

He laughed as he saw the distant mushroom cloud.

"The Hydrogen Bomb. Oh--don't hurt me, Mister Radiation."

As the life around him died, D'Hoffryn kept to his search, finally finding the spell-nodule that was his goal.

"Now, we can teleport out...wha?"

The radiation could not kill him. But it was making popping out pure hell.

"Well, I'll figure it out. Let's see what you had---heh--Anya."

The ground around D'Hoffryn began to shake. Inside the nodule was a note that contained simple words.

*YOU SHOULD HAVE KILLED ME*

He threw the note away.

"Bo-ring."

The ground stopped shaking, and D'Hoffryn felt hot breath upon him.

"Who's there? You may as well come..."

He looked up, and there he saw a great gray-green thunder lizard, nearly 200 feet tall. Its face had a canine aspect, and it sported a row of dorsal fins as well as a very long tail.

"Uhhh--ok. I know your name from somewhere...I'll betcha that little geek Andrew would know it.."

The creature roared with the noise of a hundred bull elephants. D'Hoffryn found that his teleportation now worked not at all. He saw the monster's mouth open.

"Why--why is your mouth glowing blue? Does that mean something?"

**2003**

Xander kissed her picture, and for the foreseeable future, said one last tender goodbye.

"Done."


	22. My Hero Peter Jackson

**My Hero, Peter Jackson**

by Rob Morris

**THE US MIDWEST, EARLY AUGUST, 2003**

Buffy looked around at the latest 'Watcher safe-house', and nodded appreciatively.

"Imagine--someone actually combined a motel and a movie drive-in. Couldn't have lasted too long."

Giles nodded in agreement.

"The Council often searched out distressed properties like this. They paid the owners what they were once worth, did minor upkeep, and were left alone by the locals. Heh. I almost wish we had a film to spool onto the screen. Both the projector and the screen itself are in good shape."

Andrew walked forward.

"We do have a film. Jonathan made it--sort of."

The curious and frankly bored extended Scooby clan moved in to listen to their most awkward and unwanted member.

"See, Jonathan and I caught 'Fellowship Of The Ring' in Baja. Oh, was he ever disgusted at the cuts they made."

Dawn rolled her eyes.

"As opposed to the cut you gave him."

Andrew began to shake, but got back on track.

"ANYway, he mystically duped a reel, then spent months using the actors, sets, and such to go back and fill in all the missing Tolkien dialogue and sequences via magic. This, my friends, is the *real* extended cut of 'Lord Of The Rings'. Unbutchered. Who's up for it?!"

Giles stepped forward.

"I am. True literature can not be boxed in. Maybe after, we can send this labour of love to Mister Jackson, and show him how its done. I knew these books before they were trendy, and no 'Lethal Weapon' clone will suffice for its on-screen telling."

Willow nodded.

"If Jonathan did this, then his whole life just got redeemed. This is magic used for healing the wounds those ravening Hollywood fiends foisted on us."

Xander looked at the projector booth.

"No instant journeys to Rivendell. I can have this set up in no time--and I'll do it for Jonathan!"

Only Buffy held back as the friends got underway.

"Guys, didn't the director say he made those cuts because, otherwise, the movies would be..."

But the Chief Slayer was ignored, and so, the film began to play in about an hour. Willow even adjusted the local lighting to allow for uninterrupted play, should it be called for.

* * *

**MID-OCTOBER**

Xander answered the phone.

"Hey, Buff! How's Europe? Great. Listen, Angel called. Something to do with Spike's amulet. Yeah. I'll tell him. Oh, that? Well, its moving along nicely. Yeah, I no longer wish he'd taken both my eyes. Okay. You be good, lady. Bye."

Xander put his headphones back on, and then his dark sunglasses.

"I may admire their persistence, but a man can only take so much."

Outside, the nightmare continued. Onscreen, Merry Brandybuck motioned.

"Ho! I have The Prancing Pony in my far sights. Let's us break for the night, and have more of Farmer Maggott's mushrooms!"

Frodo laughed a full five minutes.

"Oh, you thieves! But I shall share the last of this great treasure. Let me hunt up a squirrel, so that his winter's stash of legumes may be made butter for our feast!"

Pippin pointed.

"I think I spy such a rascal, Mister Baggins! Oh, but he has about him a queer look, as though he were not a squirrel at all. Let us sing to him of old Tom Bombadil, and see if this stirs this oddy to speech!"

Willow sat teary-eyed, next to a blank-eyed Kennedy. She shook her head.

"No more mushrooms. Oh, no more singing."

Giles looked at Andrew.

"You couldn't have killed him earlier?"

Robin Wood had suffered a breakdown.

"Mama? Come and take me away from the bad place. I'll be good. I really will."

Faith sat in a fetal position.

"What, are these freaking Hobbits smoking joints? No one has those kind of munchies."

**ANOTHER PLACE, ANOTHER AGE**

Frodo shrugged at the end of Sam's telling.

"So that's all there is? The Slayer and her friends stand over the pit where had been their home, and all is done? That's not a proper ending!"

Merry shook a raised hand.

"Frodo, no such telling is proper. Go, I say, and seek out the original text. All will be made clear."

Pippin shook his head furiously.

"Oh, you don't want that! They spend hundreds of pointless pages gathering those wretched Potentials. Still, it was better, I will daresay, than Book Six."


	23. Father May I?

**Father, May I?**

by Rob Morris

Peter Parker got off the phone with one of his old friends.

"Well, thanks loads, Doc. Tell Wong I'll dig up his cousin's records, too. Bye."

May Parker, absolutely astounded by the red-shift in her abilities, waited on the ceiling, having finally coaxed her little brother Ben to sleep.

"So? What'd he say?"

Half-frowning, Parker took his infant son and handed him off to a wife only slightly more amused by big sister's antics. May landed, lighter on her feet than ever before. Reed had yet to test her new strength levels properly.

"Doc Strange spoke of an event some thirteen years back. Ever hear of Lake Sunnydale, California? Well, it used to be just Sunnydale."

"Lemme guess. Sinkhole?"

"No. Hellmouth. Doc says it was of an unusual structure and concentration, differentiating it from your usual dimensional portal. Anyway, it went away in 2003. One of Mephisto's second cousins got uppity, and he--it--was brought down by the Slayer."

"Err--Slayer?"

"Doc's current disciple was her best pal. A woman spawned by old-school magic to fight a breed of vamp specially made to bring on the end."

May sat down, strength aside.

"Wow. So now I'm the one-and-only?"

Peter shook his head.

"No, kiddo. No more than you're the only spider type. When this Willow Rosenberg did her thing with a kind of Slayer-Excalibur, basically every girl who could be a Slayer became one. Doc says its kept Drac and Lilith on their toes for over a decade, but they're due for a resurgence. So someone with extra abilities would be very welcomed, even as a local adjunct."

May did an extra-wide back-flip that only her father's experience kept from this becoming a father-daughter foot-in-mouth moment.

"HOOKAY!! Exit Spider-Girl, enter the Spider-Slayer!!!!"

Peter picked her up bodily, as he had not since she was only eight. He looked her sternly in the eye.

"NO--Spider-Slayer."


	24. Imperialism

**Imperialism**  
by Rob Morris

US President Joyce Summers glared harshly at the much younger Canadian Prime Minister.

"So you have a sizable nuclear arsenal?"

The other woman shrugged.

"Haven't you been listening to a word I've said? Soviet-era Mercs, remnants of the KGB and Securitate, have been attacking us via the Arctic Circle. We need those nukes for the same reason..."

"They come down. Now."

The Prime Minister was incredulous.

"Madame President, normally we're more than content with Norad's protection. My people don't want this responsibility--at all. But this is an unseen war we're fighting, and it doesn't stop just because you proclaim..."

"And the size of your standing army is wholly unacceptable. Disband and disarm them, immediately."

The Prime Minister walked out, as President Summers shouted.

"This is an act of war, Madame Prime Minister! Do not walk out of here--we are prepared to take this over the top!"

Behind her, General Snyder whispered.

"We have to hit now. Those mountain-bases are Radar-shielded. I should know. I'm the one who shielded them."

"But that could lead to a worldwide...."

"Madame President, either we strike hard with our power, or that power is worthless and has no meaning."

Joyce nodded, lifted up the desk top, found the series of confirmation relays.....and firmly ordered the end of the world.

"The tapes all say...I have to be firm in my *No*."

---------------------------------------------------------  
In the real world, Joyce woke up, badly shaken, and a little surprised she wasn't screaming.

Bringing Pat over had been a mistake, she now realized, beyond her final fate. Ever since they'd been kids, Pat had always told her what she wanted to hear. Why she had ever listened to that weasel Snyder now made her wince. She'd seen the man's cowardice, first-hand. As for Buffy's friends, they were far too dependent upon her to act rationally or give real comfort, upon her return.

"No, that job belongs to a mother."

She couldn't handle it. A child that for the basics of life, really didn't need her at all. A child who would obey groundings only out of love and respect, not out of even the hint of fear. A child that, even if she were to raise her hand to--not that she ever would--she would have no chance of disciplining. In fact, any such action would be her greatest mistake. Hank had said many such things about handling Buffy. Of course, the fact that he said them all right before filing kind of diluted their impact.

"Why didn't I just tell her?"

That her business back home had been failing anyway. That staying in town after the divorce made her skin crawl. High-schoolers hardly held the patent on catty remarks. That the gym burning was suspicious all around, not just on Buffy's end. But she still couldn't tell her now. Admitting errors that far back would enervate what little position she had left.

"But recent errors? That I can do."

She woke her.

"Mom?"

"Tell me. How much like a bad TV mother did I sound like with that 'If you leave now, don't bother coming back' garbage?"

Her smile helped, and they found some subjects less taboo as a result. Joyce even suggested maybe accompanying Buffy on one of her patrols.

She was after all, still capable of making mistakes.


	25. Endless Possibilities

**Endless Possibilities**  
by Rob Morris

FEBRUARY 20, 2001

The pale, pretty girl with the ankh stood before her, and Joyce simply knew. Oddly, she thought about Dawn, hoping that her daughter-by-magic would never dress this way.

"So the operation didn't take?"

The girl nodded, seeming sadder for the false hope Joyce was offered than for the reason for she was there.

"Yeah. But it wasn't entirely the tumor. You could have lived with the operation's after-effects. Problem is, the monks' spell told your body you had borne two children. Your body knew otherwise. It all put your immune system into imbalance."

Joyce shook her head.

"Magic. Its always magic. It once made me make a pass at Xander Harris!"

Both ladies giggled, just a bit, at that. Then Joyce girded herself.

"Can you make sure I'm not sprawled all over the place? My daughter has a lot of enemies, and I don't want her to think one of them got me."

The girl nodded.

"Very reasonable. Easily arranged. But Joyce? I don't have to take you for a full twelve hours. You can have the chance to say goodbye as it happens."

Joyce smiled. It would all be perfect, or as perfect as these things got.

"How much of this conversation do I get to retain for the time I have left?"

"The conversation and me? Nada. But you'll keep the gist. You can call people. The bank. Your ex. Your birth mother's mother, out in Illinois. Make a big meal."

At first, the thought had tremendous appeal. But Joyce Summers prided herself on being a practical woman, and that meant asking obvious questions.

"To do your job, you can't give people extensions. Otherwise, everyone would want one. So why are you doing this for me?"

Her pretty face sank a bit.

"Its not an extension, Joyce. I'm twelve hours early. You see, you don't exactly get to make those calls in peace, if you live your full time."

Joyce sat down, and the girl sat with her. "Buffy?"

"Its not one of her enemies. Its something you did. A questionable but highly understandable attempt to protect Buffy's heart."

Joyce remembered.

"Angel."

"Mmm-hmm. See, while you and Buffy are chatting, Dawn will go looking for a brush. She'll go in your room. She'll find and read your diary. She'll see the passage regarding your talk with Angel, just before he left. Dawn will then try and hide this from Buffy. That is, she'll try and hide it."

When Joyce was silent, her visitor continued.

"If you live your appointed time, then your life will end in the middle of the single most ferocious argument you and Buffy have ever had. Do I really need to say what follows from there?"

No, she didn't, mused Joyce.

"No disrespect meant--but why would you care? You have your job to do, and I get the impression that this is an unusual arrangement."

The girl raised her finger.

"Disrespect. You see, that's what this is about. Nobody likes who I am, and what I do. But most people show respect to the necessity and nature of it all. Your daughter's enemies, though? They regularly spit--among other things---on my image and likenesses. By staking them, Buffy shows them that in the end, a Master dies same as a Joyce. You should see their faces as they realize I'm not going away."

Joyce shook her head.

"I'll find the words. Explain to her why I did what I did."

"Eventually, Joyce? She might even understand it all, and thank you for your love and concern. But not in the time you have left. If you come now, that volume of your diary will be accidentally burned by Dawn, as she's helping to clean up. Buffy will never see it."

Joyce saw the kindness in this gesture, but also would regret not saying goodbye to her daughter--to her daughters, and so many others. Still, the choice was plain, if her intervention was to remain her and Angel's secret.

"Let's go."

Joyce felt the girl gently take her hand, and then suddenly winced at the goofy expression she saw her body's face wearing. Then, she took note of something else.

"My slip! The paramedics...."

"Joyce--she'll cover it up when she finds you. Now, let's go. I've already arranged with my brother to give her a lot of powerful dreams. Buffy will be fine."

Joyce walked with the girl to her destination.

"How--how long before Buffy joins me?"

Death had given her gift, and so answered this last question as honestly as she could.

"That's a tough one. You see--she's just not the type that stays put very well."

Before entering a great gate, Joyce heard one word murmured meekly from the other side.

"mommy?"


	26. Nermal Again

**Nermal Again**  
by Rob Morris

Garfield awoke, and looked around. He wasn't in his home. The light hurt his eyes.

*Stupid huge eyeballs. Its bad enough having cat vision. Its like having lighted binoculars.*

There was a doctor in a lab coat in front of him, smiling.

"Welcome back, Garfield. We seem to have broken the hold the other world has on you."

Garfield again looked around, and realized he was in some sort of mental facility.

*I AM NOT A NUMBER! I AM A FREE CAT!!!*

But then he checked his pet license, and realized that in fact, he was a number.

*Eh. I can deal with it.*

The doctor nodded.

"This is the first time we've gotten you out since the death of Lorenzo Music. Wait'll I tell your owner."

*My owner? I'm in a pet mental facility?*

Garfield peered out the door, and saw holding cells with names marked on them like Ed, Azrael, Lassie, Rin-Tin-Tin, Ms. Lions, Ape, and Opus.

*This must be California.*

Jon Arbuckle walked in--completely alone, except for the Doctor.

"Is he really cured, Doctor?"

I think so, Mister Arbuckle. He has completely rejected the grim fantasy world wherein you are a cartoonist."

Jon laughed.

"A cartoonist? I'm the Lasagna King of the West Coast! My factories pour out over a hundred tons of the stuff each week."

Garfield felt his heart stop.

*This place is great!*

"What's more, Mister Arbuckle, he's lost that odd alter-ego, a stupid dog named Odie. He never made any sense, anyway. Originally, he was supposed to be owned by a friend of yours, but then Garfield had retroactive memories of meeting him as a puppy."

Garfield put his hand on his chest.

*Odie, old pal. I'll never forget you--so long as you remain just an intangible memory that can't bother me anymore.*

"Anything else, Doctor?"

"Yes. I'm pleased to say that Garfield's personal demon, an eternally cute kitten named Nermal, is also a thing of the past."

Garfield let his view on this pass without much comment.

*YES! YEEEEEESS! YEEEEEEEEESSSSSSSSSS!!!!!!!*

"Doctor, he's jumping for joy! Err--can you give him something for that?"

The Doctor injected him with a sedative, and Garfield laid down.

*Paradise--I'm in Paradi---*

Garfield awoke in the Arbuckle home. Odie's immense tongue was licking him. Nermal smiled, looking annoyingly cute as ever. Jon held up a graying mass inside a casserole dish.

"Gee, Garfield, we thought we'd lost you. I warned you not to eat this eight-week old lasagna! Heaven only knows what kind of dreams you had."

Odie kept licking. Nermal just kept blinking those eyes.

*Garfield, what kind of dreams do fat people have? I wouldn't know, of course.*

In a blind panic, Garfield ate up all the remaining eight-week old Lasagna. Quickly, he found himself back in the clinic, where he grabbed the Doctor by his lapels.

*Listen, you idiot! NEVER sedate me again.*

Jon opened the clinic's front door, where his super stretch limo awaited his happy cat.

"Let's go home, Garfield."

* * *

SUNNYDALE, MARCH 26TH, 2003, 4:30 am

Buffy awoke in the kitchen with a start.

"Whowhatwhenwherehowwhy?"

Xander held her steady.

"Hey! Its alright. Buff, you just had a bad dream. You must've been starved, to eat that week-old lasagna. What were Giles and you arguing about, anyway?"

Buffy grabbed her head.

"He and Robin tried to kill Spike."

Xander stood up, enraged.

"Spike? My brother Spike?"

Xander then threw on an old-style set of pilot's goggles, a flight jacket, and a scarf.

"The Red Baron must pay for this! Away to my faithful Sopwith Camel!"

Buffy stared dumbly as outside, Xander jumped into a World War One Biplane, and took off. She saw Willow.

"Willow, I think he ate the bad lasagna, too. We have to stop him."

Willow smiled.

"Noper."

"Well, why not?"

Willow shrugged.

"I kinda cast a spell on someone else, while Xander's under the influence."

The young woman awoke with a start. She was dressed as a World War One German nobleman, flying in a red biplane decorated with the Iron Cross. She heard Xander Harris crying out from his biplane.

"I have you now, Red Baron!"

As his blazing guns bore down on her, she pleaded for her miserable  
life.

"Xander, No! It's me! AMY!!!"

----------------

The credits rolled at that point, and Garfield shut off the TV. Nermal and Odie looked confused. Garfield walked away in disgust. Jon shook his head.

"This is even worse than Season Six."


	27. Normal Beach

(Based on the Buffy The Vampire Slayer episode 'Normal Again')

Normal Beach  
by Rob Morris

His eyes opened, and he looked about furtively. The man with his  
face-almost-was there again.

"Jim? Jim, do you recognize me?"

"Sa-Sam?"

He said no more. It had to be a trick.

"Aurelan, I swear that he responded that time."

"I heard it too, George."

Next to the raven-haired beautiful woman stood a young boy with red  
hair.

"Doctor Picard? You said I play a role in his fantasy life?"

The bald man. His voice was familiar.

"As do I. As do we all, Peter. As you know, your uncle's traumas as  
a boy on Tarsus Four left him in this condition. In these fantasies, he  
plays a space hero. Your character is unique in that it seems to serve  
whatever mood he's in. When a *now-dismissed* intern left a detailed  
study of the Revelations Of St. John for your uncle to peruse, I'm  
afraid your character became quite bizarre indeed."

The man with his face except for a moustache nodded.

"But I always die, right?"

"You have to, Doctor Kirk. After all, what have you done since his  
traumas but try to shatter his safe fantasy world?"

The woman called Aurelan held his hand, which he pulled back.

"Just what did he do with Anton Karidian?"

"Well, Mrs. Kirk, that pedophile and would-be serial killer morphed  
into a mad colonial governor. How he was ever permitted to lead an  
acting class for young children..."

The boy again. Or was he more than a boy? Hard to remember...

"How many brothers does he think I have?"

"That depends. I must be frank with all of you. If we do not break  
the hold this-this violent utopia has on him soon, we may lose Jimmy  
Kirk forever."

He had to sleep. To leave this place. They tried to shake him, but he  
ignored them.

--------------

"Alright, Spock. I think you've stabilized him."

"But not enough, Doctor. Merely as much as I dare for now. I very  
nearly emerged within the fantasy again."

McCoy had wondered how Tyree's late wife had planned to continue  
dominating someone as strong-willed as Jim. They now knew. The  
secondary effect of the Mugato's toxin was to send the victim into a  
primal, perfect fantasy reflecting their deepest wishes and desires.

"Still can't figure out why Jim's fantasy world would be an  
insane asylum. It makes no sense."

"Doctor, within my meld, I sensed the Captain's struggle. The  
mental health facility is not, so far as I can tell, a place he desires  
to be. My best guess is that it is a compromise between what the toxin  
is making him see and his knowledge that the life it offers is a  
fraud."

"And if he accepts release from the asylum in that other place?"

"Then Doctor—he is lost to us forever."


	28. Riding With Schrodinger

Riding With Schrodinger  
by **Rob Morris**

"So we're not turning around again?"

Xander shrugged.

"Taking you away was never my favorite idea. Plus, I haven't figured out  
where you hid that taser."

"No getting even with Dawn-ie?"

"We'll work on that. But first--when were you supposed to have done in  
Miss Kitty Fantastico?"

Dawn winced.

"The errr---crossbow incident in question took place when Willow and  
Tara stayed at the Rosenberg house for the summer, after the Adam thing  
went down. As for details---I cite the Fifth Commandment."

Xander shook his head.

"Then the cat's still alive."

Dawn looked over.

"Umm---I can kind of assure you its not."

Xander waved one hand in the air.

"Dawn, Tara and Willow were back in the dorms before you showed up in  
Casa Summers, courtesy of the Key-spell. Before that, you couldn't have  
killed a fly with a tactical nuke. You're real, and we love you. But  
stuff prior to your first appearance is all false memory. So Miss Kitty  
is alive and well, somewhere, and Willow can find her."

Dawn now actually forgot about what was upcoming in Sunnydale.

"Then why hasn't she? She must have tried a locator spell by now, and  
her magic has to trump false memories, right?"

Xander thought about this.

"I remember one of Willow's Carl Sagan books--in fact it was about a  
cat, sort of. Like, there's this imaginary box with a cat in it, and a  
randomized switch that releases poison to it, depending on when you open  
the box."

"That's cruel!"

"Its an imaginary cat, alright? Point is, until you open the box and  
either activate the poison or not, there are sort of like two cats, one  
alive and one dead."

Dawn tried her best.

"You mean in a potential way, right? God, I hate that word. But Miss  
Kitty wasn't like my bedroom furniture or photos of Mom, me and Buffy.  
She is or was alive. Now, I'm getting a headache. Is this payback for  
the taser?"

Xander kept on track.

"There's an old joke. It goes, 'You're not really here, and I can prove  
it.' See, you're not in Canada, you're not in Mexico, you're not in  
Europe, and you're not in Asia, Africa or Australia. And if you're not  
in any of those places, you must not be any-where. And if you're not  
any-where, you can't be here."

Dawn shook her head.

"That doesn't work, and it doesn't make any sense."

Xander nodded.

"Unless you're dealing with magic. So if the monks' spell wouldn't kill  
a living being--we're presuming-- then even if she's not here, Miss  
Kitty Fantastico must be somewhere. Just not here or anyplace Willow  
could find her."

Dawn grabbed the taser.

"Start paying me back for this, and stop with this surreal stuff, Xander  
Harris, or I swear..."

He smiled.

"Alright, but you asked for it..."

Xander developed a sneer.

"Ohhhhhhh---Who Lives In A Pineapple Under The Sea.....?"

And as the theme song made Dawn squirm, the answer to the fate of Miss  
Kitty Fantastico lay elsewhere.

ANOTHER UNIVERSE, 1998

"Her name is just--Kit?"

"That's all that's left of her original tags."

"Can we keep her?"

"Best to pass this by Sis. But I don't see any reason why not."

Piper held the new addition up.

"Kit--welcome to Halliwell Manor!"


	29. Jack And The Mislabeled Weapon

**Jack and the Mislabeled Weapon**  
by Rob Morris

**THE FUTURE THAT IS AKU'S**

A simple tug had failed to dislodge the enchanted weapon, but the Samurai had expected that.

"I should rely solely on my father's sword. Yet this is also a weapon forged for no other purpose than to serve the good."

Leverage and brute force had also not moved the weapon which was called one thing by the surrounding runes and yet was obviously another.

"Is it a simple thing? A glue that holds fast, like that left by a barnacle? A hidden switch?"

But several things told the warrior this was not the case. So at last he channeled all his Ki, and all his innate purity.

"It avails me nothing. The power of this weapon fairly speaks to me. It can end Aku's miserable life, freeing the people of this place and allowing me to freely pursue a portal with which to return and correct this hideous future. But it will not yield. Why? How have I failed?"

A moment later, the Samurai's eyes rose up, and he felt greatly foolish as he read further runes that explained it all quite clearly.

"It is not for thee. It is for her alone."

The Samurai knelt. He then apologized both to the weapon and all of its wielders throughout time.

"I see now that my failure was beyond my control. For I only failed to be born a woman. As for the rest, I too was chosen. Plucked by destiny from a life that now seems but a memory. Scythe Of Summers Past--I thank you for allowing me in your holy presence."

When his prayers of thanks and penance were done, the Samurai left what some called The Bronzed Cavern. Outside, into his view came a man that laughed like a dead thing, clad in dark cloaks. But the Samurai was not of interest to this giggling fool, and the odd one sought the places of cacti, coyotes, sun and sand, just past the Valley Of The Sun. Not five minutes later, what looked like a grizzled cowboy also came along. He looked at Jack.

"I cry your pardon, Sai-Samurai. Did a cloaked figure cross your eyes, not long before I did as well?"

The man's speech was odd, but the Samurai saw no reason to be rude, and  
so merely answered the question he'd been asked.

"Yes. He sought the dry wastes just beyond us."

The cowboy withdrew a gun from its holster. That gun looked less like a crude cannon and more like a family sword, such as Jack himself wielded. Yet it was no more for him than the Slayer's Scythe had been.

"Thankee-Sai. May your father's face guide you in all things."

Jack nodded.

"It always does."

The samurai observed that the man in black had fled across the desert, and now this gunslinger followed. Perhaps certain quests were like imperfectly drawn parallel lines in some fashion, he reasoned. He held up the sword his father forged, and smiled lightly at it.

"We will yet find you a fit companion. Now, what was the name of that British sword?"


	30. Sometimes The Bullet Lies To Me

Sometimes The Bullet Lies To Me  
by **Rob Morris**

KOREA

Hawkeye looked at his CO, and for once the pleading was all in the eyes of the  
brash surgeon who had just lost a dear old friend.

"Henry, before I let this war go on its merry way, I have to know. At some  
point, do we hit the easy part of this fershluginner test?"

Colonel Blake couldn't afford to let Pierce rest very long, and he could not  
afford to let him lose his edge at all. He shrugged.

"That's a mite vague, Captain. We talking about just the war, or life?"

Hawkeye was holding the wall for support the way he never had, even when  
blasted drunk.

"Either. Both. Neither. All of it. Just tell if it evens out. It'd be helpful  
in my continued breathing, not to mention caring about the same."

"Let me see if I've got this straight. The man who laughs at my sex lectures  
and tells me I'm practically a Loony Tunes come to life wants me to say...what?  
Pierce, just what the hell do you want me to say?"

Hawkeye found that his tears were still flowing as he responded. Tommy Gillis  
was still gone.

"Lie. Lying would be nice. A really good corker of a lie. Something on the  
order of Santa Claus and an honest Congress would do for starters. And then  
just keep on lying. I'll tell you when never to stop."

Henry looked, but was obviously not, amused, as he did what Pierce requested.

"Hell, I don't even need Radar to do that. See, its like this. Eventually,  
every single patient who comes through here will live. All the boneheads at HQ  
and all the thieves in the supply chain will be stripped of commision or  
arrested, to be replaced by enlightened and honest men. Our strong morals and  
ethics will convince the other side to give up without a protracted struggle,  
and the promises of world peace we've heard since Wilson will one and all come  
true, and no American will ever question another's loyalty, ever again. There.  
Does that help?"

Hawkeye looked back at the OR, and then at Blake. He prepared to go back in.

"You know what, Henry? Its no wonder you have trouble running this place. No  
offense, but you're a lousy liar."

"S'okay, Pierce. I get the same thing from Lorraine."

--------------------------------------------------------------------------  
----------------------------------

SUNNYDALE

Buffy watched the empty shell of her childhood friend fall to dust. Her  
tears were still coming out, ignoring her best efforts at self-control.

"You know what, Giles? It occurs to me, that, not long after I hit this burg,  
one of the first vamps I dusted was Xander's pal Jesse."

"Your point being?"

Buffy looked down at the disturbed dirt of Lucas's grave and began to pat it  
with her foot.

"Point being, Xander's been a good friend. But when he lost his bestest pal, I  
didn't with the waterworks make."

Giles tried to guide her away from what was sure to come.

"Your friendship was new, then."

"Yeah, but I knew they'd been buds. I could have at least told him more  
forcefully how much that all sucked. But I didn't. I didn't cry over the kid  
who became The Anointed One. My professor got his block lopped off by a horny  
mantis--but no tears from Buffy. Rough tough ole Slayer, that's me."

The Watcher offered what comfort he could.

"We have a problem. In order for me to competently and purposefully explain why  
you haven't cried for all those lost in this struggle, I would have to be a  
seventh-level initiate, my eventual place on the Senior Council all but  
reserved. Were that the case, though, I wouldn't be here with you. I'd be  
deciding twixt lemon or lime in my tea and buttering my biscuits with those  
flower-bud-shaped pats you see in fine hotels, this while watching the Thames  
from the Grand Solarium at our London headquarters. As you can see, its quite  
remarkable how England looks nothing at all like Southern California."

"So being stuck here with me, what do you know? What lower-level wisdom can you  
offer? I'm not picky."

Giles put a hand on her shoulder.

"All I can offer is what my grandmother told me. This is no game we play, but  
rather it is a war, and a total war at that. The first great constant is that  
the innocent, the guilty, the damned, the saved, the loved, the hated, the  
sinner and the repentant one and all will often drop like flies  
right before your eyes. This also ties with the second great constant, which  
clearly states that the first constant endures, uncaring of the efforts of  
Slayers or other champions."

"And you swear by all that?"

Giles threw his hands up.

"Swear by it? I wouldn't even say that I fully believe in it."

Buffy saw someone across the street, and resolved to act.

"So we take what we can get? That's cool with me. Because I see one I can get  
right straight ahead."

Shortly thereafter, Buffy walked into the Sunnydale Police Department almost  
carrying a very reluctant young woman she would not see again until  
overwhelmed, she ran away from home.

"Let me go!"

"Hey, Officer. I don't know this girl's real name, but I'll bet she does. She  
nearly caused really bad harm to herself and others, just last night, by  
pulling a really stupid stunt with some of those people--you know, the ones on  
PCP? Yeah, *those* PCP stoners. Now, I'm going to be a major pain in your butts  
until you contact her parents and tell me they're on their way. Got me?"

After this was done and the appropriate limbs threatened with breakage should  
she run, the vampire wannabe sneered at the Slayer.

"I will never forgive you for this for as long as I live!"

Buffy shrugged as she walked out.

"Just be sure and teach your grandkids to hate me, too."

Buffy then walked back in.

"That's grandkids by way of childbirth. Not---siring."


	31. Anja Is Haunted

Anja is Haunted  
by Rob Morris

The house was a ruin that Xander would never forgive. The shotgun was still smoking. But the evil thing was gone, at least.

"You're dead. I killed you."

For sixty years, she'd seen and heard tales of its exploits. Even as a demon, she prayed that she would never encounter it. It was better at vengeance than anyone, herself included.

"You--you weren't so tough. You never once fooled me."

Yet it had. Successively, it had reappeared, disguised as Xander, then Buffy and Willow. Then finally, Spike. Each time she had blasted it, and each time it had returned.

"Hiya, Toots!"

It now seized her, and planted a disgusting kiss, right on her lips. But now she had it, and blasted it point-blank, until the fully-loaded weapon was empty, and the floor had a gaping hole. Xander would likely have her committed. But at least the thing was dead, and gone, forever.

Or was it?

She heard the slow, methodical chomping of a carrot. She heard the Brooklyn-Queens New York accent in his mock-friendly, chilling voice.

"So....ehhhhhh.....Did You Get That Rabbit, Doc?" 


	32. Rooms

**Rooms**  
by Rob Morris

The First scanned the lost eyes of Buffy's temporary astral form. Her time in 'The Clinic' was done.

"We've lost her."

A pity, really. Though its full assault was a ways off yet, it would have been nice to break the Slayer then and there. The demon-juice had been a good doorway to drag her in to a place that a lot of hero-types ended up. The First looked at 'Joyce and Hank'.

"Shift your forms for Mr. Allen."

It didn't matter where or when they ended up here. But once they were, the First could undertake a mental campaign. A campaign that always cost them, even when they won.

"Mr. Allen? Its me, Doctor Fursteinz. How are we feeling?"

The blonde man in the straitjacket struggled.

"I'm the Flash. What have you done to my powers?"

'Fursteinz' put on his best tsk-face, and turned to the 'visitors'.

"You see, Mr. Kent? ?"

The bespectacled man nodded.

"His delusions are as deep as you said, Doctor. I only wish I were the demigod poor Barry sees me as. Maybe then I could help him."

The foppish man shrugged.

"Dad says he'll keep writing the checks for here. Unless I get killed by a clown!"

Feigning disgust with the bad joke, the other two left with 'Bruce' while Allen pleaded.

"Okay. Now shift for Ms. Sommers. With an O."

Inside, Doctor Seero pleaded with his 'patient'.

"Jamie, be reasonable. If either you or Steve had cybernetic parts, couldn't you just bust out of here?"

This part the First had to insert as a dream. But it would reinforce the real-world sedative the enemy agents had fed the cyborg. The two servants shifted at the next room, labeled 'Parker, P.' Mutterings were heard from inside.

"Chameleon did this to me. My life was not a dream. Not an illusion."

The First shook 'his' head, and let the room be.

"The idiots in his reality have subjected him to so many illusions, he's nearly immune. I should just bitch-slap Mephisto."

He checked his chart.

"Mister Crichton we'll let simmer for a time. The two of you check on Riker, using the forms of dearly sympathetic friends who want to free him. But make sure he doubts. That's where it all hinges. This never breaks them forever, so get your licks in now, and widen that chink in their armor as far as it will go. I'll take the last room, alone."

This one was trickiest, mused the First. It was one of a very few realities where it could assume any form and do so physically. If lost , then the focus of efforts would be solely on Buffy Summers.

"Might even have to close the Clinic for good."

'He' entered, and saw the pretty brunette strapped to her bed. She sneered, and asked a familiar question.

"Where are my sisters?"

He answered with a familiar refrain.

"You don't have any sisters, Piper."


	33. That Wasn't It

**That Wasn't It**  
by Rob Morris

JUNE, 1999

She has to pay. She has to pay for what she did to my Faith.

Yet even as my coils enter the school in pursuit, I know its a trap. I mean, c'mon. She is a Slayer. But for Faith, I dare not break the pursuit. The chance that my jaws might taste her on the way down is too tempting. 61

Then, I see. The wires. The fertilizer. A portable volcano. But I'll still win, Slayer. My last words will be a hideous curse that will ring in your ears throughout eternity, and through a thousand, thousand hells.

"Well, Gosh!" 


	34. The Sand In The Oyster's Shell

**The Sand in the Oyster's Shell**  
by Rob Morris

A FEW MONTHS BEFORE GRADUATION DAY, 1999

"You're WHAT?"

Angel shrugged.

"Its only a germ of a thought right now. But I am thinking of clearing out of Sunnydale, once and for all. Its been on my mind since Spike showed his face again."

"Why tell me, of all people?"

Angel looked him in the eye.

"Because you lied to her. Because you told her that Willow said to kick my--or Angelus'--ass. That to my mind means you alone had the clarity of thought to remind the Slayer of her duty and the love for Buffy to want to keep her alive."

Xander looked down.

"You're making it sound noble. It wasn't. You'd been after all of us for months, and I wanted you gone. Where you couldn't hurt her again."

Angel bade him look back up.

"Exactly. Do you remember when I first reverted? Seeing all of you in the High School?"

"Kind of hard to forget. I practically put my neck in your mouth."

Angel nodded.

"Angelus had this elaborate plan in motion. All of it was predicated on you reacting badly to me. It was supposed to go that all the others would object to you saying something against me, and he would play it like that. But you suddenly were happy to see me. Angelus nearly laughed out loud."

Xander threw up his arms.

"So sue me. I decided to finally be a man about this whole thing. Buffy loves you. I decided to be happy for her, and maybe eventually for you. And it nearly got me and maybe all of us dead."

"Right. Xander, Buffy trusts me even when she shouldn't. The others follow her lead in that. I can't afford to have the woman I love without a sobering voice that repeats those painful but necessary words, over and over: At the end of the day, Angel is still a vampire."

Xander shook his head.

"I already look like enough of a jerk. I blew Willow off forever. I destroyed what I had with Cordelia. I had my first time with someone who showed me so little regard, I may actually hate her more than I ever hated you. I even went out freaking joyriding and got used by a zombie gang! Angel, I don't think you should go. Buffy needs you, you make her happy. Willow can maybe find a way so that you can---so you can. And I'll help. I'll run messages between you during the day. I've caused and I've seen enough misery associated with love to say screw how I feel--let the one great love in this stinking town go forward, and let me help it instead of playing the eternal buttmunch!"

Angel's gaze was set in stone.

"Then you've just killed Buffy. Because as sure as we're both standing here, eventually, Buffy will again trust me when she shouldn't. She might even follow me if I try to leave. Xander, I need to go away, and become a better man. For myself, and for her. I can't have her there while I'm doing it. She needs you to remind her that these ginger-ale sipping, buffalo-wing eating, chatty, urbane fun-loving creatures are still demons. It may seem like she can do that herself, but its one of her blind spots. Its in that spot that you stand guard."

Xander shrugged.

"What do you want me to do?"

"What you've been doing. If you have a problem pushing me away, then think of it as pushing Angelus away. If and when I make my final choice..."

"Sounds like you may have made it already."

Angel paused for a moment, then pushed his words to the back burner.

"If and when I make my final choice, I need you to celebrate. Jump for joy. Say riddance to rubbish. The whole spiel."

"Yeah. Doing that'll place me high on Buffy's list. I may have to get out of town after that number."

Angel nodded.

"She won't like you. But she will think about why you said all those things--all the valid reasons that she won't act to remind herself of. You say you want to help us out? Then help give us a clean break, if and when. Because the only real hope of us happily-ever aftering someday is if she goes back in with eyes wide open."

Around the corner came Buffy, and she was struck by the odd scene.

"What're you two talking about?"

Xander looked at Angel, then at Buffy.

"I was just suggesting that maybe Australia is nice this time of year. Or Montana. Or New Jersey. Or anyplace that is him, not in Sunnydale."

Xander stalked off. Buffy bit her lip before speaking.

"I'd apologize for him, but I don't much see the point. I haven't seen him acting that bad since I first got back from playing Anne."

Angel pshawed the whole thing.

"Xander is who he is. He is who and what he needs to be."

And in her laugh and her smile, Angel saw that she had again forgotten all the dangers, and all the evil. And he hoped and prayed that a man named Xander would always keep his promise.


	35. One More Time

**One More Time**

by Rob Morris

**LATE SEPTEMBER, 2001, SUNNYDALE**

Buffy was still rubbing her hands, and grabbing at her head. Willow was less sure than she seemed that the Slayer had been brought back right.

"Are--are you sure Glory's not coming back? Cause I'm not up for that again."

Willow hesitated, then just said it.

"Giles finally told us. He killed Ben, so Glory can never come back. He wasn't proud--and he was almost glad you couldn't find out."

Buffy looked at Willow.

"Wait----"

Buffy shook a finger in the air, as though trying to recall something.

"Are you saying that Ben had some connection with Glory?"


	36. Removal

**Removal**  
by Rob Morris

(A slight AU of the Buffy S3 Finale)

SUNNYDALE, COUNTY BOARD OF EDUCATION MEETING, LATE JUNE 1999

Oz testified and described a typical moment.

"So the--whatever it was slithered around the schoolyard, and he just shouts at it to stop. No--Hey kids, evacuate and don't get eaten."

Xander voiced a common grievance.

"Volunteerism is supposed to be, ya know, volunteering? School spirit is not this way made. Yes, he had the power. And I own a metal baseball bat. That doesn't mean I get to smash mailboxes."

Willow drove in a telling nail.

"It was indentured servitude. He all but told that dumb jock to have me do his project for him. A 4.0 is not an easy thing to maintain. Isn't that why we go? To do our best? Don't tell me the world's that way, cause' employers get sued for less all the time."

From behind the profusely sweating soon-to-be former Principal, Joyce whispered as her daughter's turn came up. The death blow was coming.

"You didn't realllly think she saved you from that snake to be nice, now did you?"


	37. Broadcast Range

**Broadcast Range**  
by Rob Morris

APRIL, 2001, FRANCE

PERSONAL JOURNAL, HANK SUMMERS

I hate myself for turning away her calls. I am still a man very much haunted by that waking nightmare I had about my daughter. In it, a selfish asshole that looked and spoke like me dumped on Buffy, telling her the divorce was all on her. Like her mother's attempts at control had no part in it.

Joyce never liked having control. She liked asserting control. There is a difference. You have control over those things of your own life, and those ceded by others. Joyce gave so damned much of herself, I never disputed vacation destinations, dinner guests, my weekend chores or agendas. I gave up those portions of my life because she knew how to manage them--period. But once on vacation, for example, if I wanted to see Show X, she *had* to see Museum Y, and if I didn't confront her--well, I was being difficult. That was asserting control. Once, I came home drunk, and I told her that I would, apologized in advance for the needs of that particular client, and kept it quiet when I came in. Went for the couch, even. But a neighbor saw me stagger, once that evening. It was almost as though Joyce was more fearful about hearing from the neighbor than she was about a repeat performance. Early on, Buffy's new principal in Sunnydale had Joyce in a similar snit. When you try to lock in appearances, that is asserting control. That was always poor Joyce's specialty, and her bane, because she usually backed off, apologizing, when the attempt went sour.

Buffy was not at fault for the divorce, but she played a part, in her own way. When that school gym went up in flames, it was obvious to me that something else was going on. If Joyce hadn't stuck blinders on, she would have noticed that the police and the school authorities were offering up as much doublespeak as Buffy, if not more. I think when I saw my wife buy those damned tapes, I knew. You have to hear *Be Firm In Your No* from a paid expert? I contacted my lawyer very soon afterwords.

Mind you again, Joyce was not a control freak. That was not her problem. She was willing to negotiate. But she always wanted to expand her control into new areas. Again, she would always negotiate, fairly and in good faith. Yet everytime Buffy or I had a new hobby, there she was. Maybe I should have fought harder to include her, okay. But why was she so shocked when our very teened daughter wanted to do certain things on her own? Was her stomach bulging? Were her eyes puffy, did we smell smoke, or liquor? As to being withdrawn, that was a shocker. I mean, a withdrawn teenager. My heart palpitates to consider it. Pardon mon sarcasm.

I was never and could never be one of those idiot exes, screaming about this horrendous person I divorced. Not me, and not about Joyce. But I now think that living in that place had driven her insane, just before she died. A child-support formula that suddenly tripled, without my lawyer even being called? What, am I Judd Hirsch on 'Dear John'? Stories about someone I've never met, yet am supposed to have always known? I have to stay away from Sunnydale, from now on, though it tears my heart out to do so. Because now Buffy is sending the exact same kind of letters. It must be grief, or outright insanity.

You see, no matter how many times I read the letters, I know a certain fact to be true. My Buffy has so very many wonderful qualities.

But she does not have a younger sister.


	38. And You Were?

**And You Were?**

by Rob Morris

**LOS ANGELES, FEBRUARY 6TH, 2004**

They all sat around with nothing to say. Cordy was gone, gone for good. Each waited for Angel to say something. Anything. Finally, his cell-phone rang. He answered it, and all saw his smile form.

"That's wonderful news. Thank you for calling. Thank You."

Spike tried first.

"The Senior Partners make Roast Solicitor out of old Lindsay?"

"No."

Fred felt the good vibe, and went next.

"Buffy called, to apologize for Andrew?"

"No."

Having been teased about his lawyerly implant, Gunn made a guess using those same skills.

"The SP's are ceding the whole West Coast to us, for messing with that fail-safe?"

"No."

Wes exposed his heart and went broke for hope.

"She's alive."

"No."

"Then what was it?"

Angel smiled and nodded, and spoke the last words his friends would allow from him for twenty days.

"I just saved a bundle on my car insurance by switching to Geico."


	39. The Touch

**The Touch**  
by Rob Morris

MAY, 2001

Glory grinned. She nearly had both her key, and that insect of a Slayer, too.

Then, the truck hit. Hit hard. Harder than Glory had ever been hit by a pissant mortal vehicle. It carried her for hundreds and hundreds of miles. Glory later felt herself being loaded into some kind of cannon, and fired. Unable to be killed in that manner, she nonetheless knew pain. Coyote-level pain.

Back in front of its HQ carved from a mountainside, the truck, now standing on two good legs and minus its trailer, watched as the distant Glory fell through a glowing energy portal, back to the Earth she was connected to. Lacking a true mouth, he still managed to smile.

"Good Luck, Slayer."

Optimus Prime then went inside to tell Perceptor that his 'Multiversal Door' worked just fine.

* * *

1999

Harmony stood upon her pedestal, the tiara now firmly and forever upon her head. She threw kisses to her followers.

"Cordelia was weak. She chose the nerd, instead of us. She has therefore been dumped in the trash, and there she will remain. Harmony rules the topmost social elite!"

Her name was chanted, over and over, by those doubtless now planning to take what was hers. They never would, of course.

"This is SO my moment."

It was not to last very long. The doors of the rented hall burst wide. The air began to shift violently. A lone woman clad in white robes floated and looked upon Harmony's reception with utter disdain and three varieties of contempt. Harmony gulped.

"Cor-Cor-delia? Is that you?"

The woman raised her right arm halfway, and opened a glowing palm.

"Here's A Hint."

Slowly, energies built up in the new woman's hand, culminating in a blinding energy blast that struck Harmony as her fellow mutineers shrieked in horror. Kendall burned to ash, and her tiara dropped to and shattered upon the ground, at first making a clanging noise as it did. The floating figure ascended to the pedestal, firing off a few more bursts as she went.

"My name is Galvaria Chase. I rule. I rule You. Any questions?"

There were none.

* * *

2002

Angel stared at the DVD label. He was stunned.

"You go to buy 'Steel Magnolias'. You instead buy 'Transformers : The Movie'. Ok. No offense to our old pal Mister Harris, but this particular purchase I would have expected of him-not you."

Cordelia seized it back from him, shrugging.

"This movie has some moments that I find very inspirational."

She whispered as he walked away.

*You do not control me, Unicron.*


	40. The Scoobies Go Commercial

**The Scoobies Go Commerical**  
by Rob Morris

PSA  
---------

What If America Wasn't America?

Buffy walked up to the library counter to check out her list of books.

"I need these."

The matronly librarian glared.

"These books are no longer available. May I have your name?"

Buffy pulled back her fist, and sent the impostor flying.

"Yeah. Like anybody checks out enough books in this town for Big Brother to care."

Two MIB's approached.

Please come with us."

They were on the floor rapid-amente.

"I'm thinking not."

Buffy called Willow and Giles to see about reality spells, then Xander to meet her with a cache of weapons. It was going to be a long day.

What If America Wasn't America?

Then the Slayer would kick ass until it got back into shape.

* * *

Xander Goes To Dell

-----------

The Harmony-esque young women belittled their male companions.

"Hey, guys? Maybe we can have a room with snacks, and call it a snack--room."

Xander didn't care much for either bunch, but felt compelled to step forward.

"Excuse, please. Are you riding them because they suggested policies that Dell already has in place?"

"Well--duh!"

Their giggling rolled right off the Scooby-carpenter. Xander raised a finger.

"Before this campaign, who was the Dell spokesperson?"

"Uh, ya know, that guy..."

"He's from American Pie, or at least he looks like the guy from Ameri..."

Xander nodded.

"It was the 'Dude, You're Getting A Dell' dude, right?"

"I guess."

Xander shrugged.

"You have him as a spokesperson, and then you honestly have the nerve to wonder why no one knows your policies?"

The commercial broke up after that.

* * *

Willow Anticipates

* * *

As Carly Simon played on the stereo, the man struck at his catsup bottle. His wife then offered him a plastic-squeeze bottle. But when he used it to strike at the bottle, she slapped his head and stopped the stereo.

Willow stepped in.

"Listen, commercial-writing people? What is up with this guy-slapping and stomping? Don't we want less of the hitting all-around? I mean, this isn't gonna bring any equity. I like guys--well, not like I used to, or as much as I used to in the same way sort of kind of--but they're not all Curly Howard or Ted Bundy. Turn off Lifetime once in a while. He'll get arrested at the end, alright?"

She turned to the husband.

"Why were you using the plastic bottle to hit the glass one?"

He pointed.

"Cause I hate plastic bottles. Nothing ever tastes right, and they're not good for the environment."

Willow nodded.

"I am sooo there. Hey, do you have a good Carly Simon collection?"

"She-she helps me relax when I eat."

Willow gathered up the CD's.

"Come with me to my house. We'll eat and listen there--with none of the hitting."

The husband got up to leave. His wife tried to stop him.

"You do realize she's a..."

"Yes, dear. But we Carly-lovers share a bond that goes beyond such things."

As she sat dejected, he tossed her a copy of 'The Spy Who Loved Me'.

"Watch. Listen. Learn."

* * *

Dawn And The Lizard

* * *

There was a knock on the door of the Summers' home.

Dawn opened the door, and saw a small lizard standing upright.

"Hello, young lady. Are your parents home? I'm here representing my insurance company."

Dawn laughed out loud.

"You HONESTLY want to cover property damage here? HERE?!"

Still laughing, Dawn shut the door. The lizard walked away, vowing this would be the last home he'd bother with in this town. He got back in the car.

"Well, she didn't need to be rude about it."

The Chihuahua who was driving the car tried to comfort his friend.

"Its like I told you, man. Sunnydale is just weird. De Nada. Lets go get some good Chinese."

* * *

Silly Anya

----------------

The cruel children arbitrarily took the cereal box away from the starving animal.

"You know the rules!"

But Anya moved in, and pulled on it.

"I don't like rabbits. But this one won your stupid little competition, fair and square. Now give it up!"

The kids smiled, and one poured the box's contents onto the ground.

"Guess he can't have any."

Anya remembered one of Xander's silly anime shows, and looked at the rabbit, who weakly whispered : "Do It."

The screaming children were converted into fruit flavored corn puffs, their contents refilling the box. Anya saw him eat his fill.

"Don't thank me. I didn't do that for you. What will you do now, though?"

The rabbit shrugged.

"Now that I have my strength back, I have a friend I need to check into detox/rehab."

Anya nodded.

"Heroin?"

The rabbit shook his head.

"No. Chocolate Puffs."

* * *

Giles' First Meal Of The Day

* * *

Giles disgustedly poured the forty bowls of cereal that he had not asked for on the cafeteria floor.

"Madame, I did not ask for the nutritional equivalent of your preferred cereal. Now give me exactly one bowl of that cereal."

But just then, fate stepped in. A blue poltergeist entered. Behind him was a pinkish-red undead reanimated creature. Entering next was an odd-looking vampire dressed in brown. He raised his arms.

"You are now one and all the subjects of----"

Giles winced. He knew what was coming.

"CHOCULA!!!!"


	41. The Ritual Of Naming

**The Ritual of Naming**  
by Rob Morris

1981

The young Summers' couple had been on vacation. Joyce wasn't due to deliver for another few weeks. The baby had other ideas.

"Sedative! I don't care what I said before!"

The hospital was too far, and no doctor was available. But a proper gentleman walked up, and offered his help.

"I've some small medical training in this field."

Happily, it proved to be enough, and a baby girl was born, either to be an only child or the first of two, depending upon who and when you asked. In any event, Hank and Joyce sought to express their gratitude by naming the baby for this kind man. His first and surnames were out for a girl, though. Then, the man had an idea.

"Some years ago, I was a gentleman's gentleman. What you would call a butler. My employer, prior to his tragic demise, took upon himself the care of his teenaged niece and younger niece and nephew, who had been orphaned. They were all dear to me, but most especially the younger niece. With her uncle's passing, she was separated from her siblings and placed into horrid foster care. She took up narcotics, and was lost to us before we could intervene. She had a good heart before all that. I tried so to watch over her. I firmly feel she had a great destiny before her. Could you perhaps name the child after her?"

Joyce nodded and smiled, and Hank with her. So it was that Buffy Summers was born. Even though the couple never had a son, they always vowed that if they did, they would name that son after that kind former butler. But, as fate would have it, no child was ever named after--Mister Giles French. Word had it he returned to England and oversaw the reformation of his wild second cousin---Rupert. The Slayer never did find out who bought her most favorite doll.

Watching is, after all, a family affair.


	42. She's Not There

**She's Not There**

by Rob Morris

**COLORADO, AUGUST, 2003**

His tan needed no further work. The Neos did. It was Dawn who suggested letting the slight crushes some of them sported on Xander help to teach them some of the super-basics.

"Every vamp can kill you. The wild-looking one. The dandy. The cursed boyfriends. They can hit you and kill you every second until they are scattered dust, and for all we know, some might fly up your windpipe even then. They will taunt you. They're really good for that. Once someone is vamped, all the brains they had and all the brains they never used become turned toward seeking prey. That would be you."

He went on until he started repeating himself, and so dismissed the young women whose instincts would be a better teacher than he could ever hope to be. But the one who without a doubt did not want him even mildly remained. She was the chosen lover of his very best friend, and if she tended to grate on his nerves a bit, so be it.

"Hey, Xander? Can we talk?"

"Your tongue cut her again, didn't it?"

"Errr..No. Its about Tara."

Xander sat down.

"She appeared?"

Kennedy waved her hand.

"No. No First-y stuff. What--kind of person was she?"

Xander's remaining eye seemed to look at the clouds.

"Beauty. Not beautiful. Beauty. Not hot. Not hubba. Beauty. If I could, I'd give time from my remaining life so that Willow could have her ba--"

He stopped, seeing her obvious discomfort..

"Hey. Its not anything on you. But it was next to impossible not to love Tara."

She nodded, the tough girl almost looking a bit tearful.

"Or forget her. Xander, I don't need any surprises. So tell me now. Am I sloppy seconds for Willow? Am I always going to be the quick lay-over--so to speak--between Tara and the real next one?"

Xander held out his hand.

"You are a Scoobie. One of about fifty, last I checked. Someday, you'll be your own Slayer and have your own nerd jester to remind you of things. In fact, you may already, if Faith doesn't claim him so she can raid his groceries on a regular basis. The only surprise Willow is gonna give you is how totally totally totally--totally spies--totally she gives herself to you. Tara is gone."

Kennedy smiled lightly.

"No surprises?"

"She's yours. When Will moves on, she moves on. Hell, just ask Oz. No more surprises there, after the dust settled."

Kennedy began another round without meaning to.

"Oz? She was the werewolf, right?"


	43. Thank You, Girl

**Thank You, Girl**  
by Rob Morris

DECEMBER 18TH, 2002

Xander walked up, and kissed Willow on the cheek. She smiled.

"Hey, what was that for?"

He shrugged.

"That was for being interested in me, back in High School. It told me that I must have something going for me, if someone like you wanted someone like me. Raised my self-esteem when I needed it most."

She squeezed his hand.

"Thanks. But what brought this on?"

A whiny voice from the living room helped answer this.

"Xander? When Lex Luthor appeared in Swamp Thing 53, he talked like he was the Pre-Crisis Luthor, and the Byrne/Wolfman Superman hadn't come out yet. But when Swamp Thing went seeking revenge in issue 79, he attacked Lexcorp HQ, and that's definitely Post-Crisis. Now, do you suppose that the Pre-Crisis Lex used a temporal device to escape the effects of the Crisis Wave, and maybe this helped cause Zero Hour, which, BTW, could not have really killed..."

Xander began to cry, his head on the table. Willow stroked his hair.

"Its okay, baby. You escaped. To you, they're only refs. To Andrew, they're like air or something."

In the living room, the nightmare kept on.

"....but the Mirror Universe that appeared in the Mike Barr DC TOS comic books was so much more coherent than the one in the TNG Pro-Novel Dark Mirror, to say nothing of the overdone MU arc on DS9. I mean, it was just SOOO obvious that Smiley was rebuilding the Empire..."


	44. An Easy Victory

An Easy Victory  
by Rob Morris

Buffy sat on her home's roof, again contemplating the mess her life had become. Sure enough, the thing that wore her beloved's face showed up.

"You think you can hide from me up here? You think there is a place to hide? No chance, honey! You are mine, now and always. Your life and death are all on me."

Buffy stared at the floating vampire, and ignored his taunts. A confused look crossed her face.

"Hey? Since when can you fly? I thought only vampires like Inspector Knight and his bunch up in Toronto could fly, or float."

Angelus laughed.

"Well, baby, there's a perfectly good reason I can fly."

He stopped laughing.

"Wait. No there isn't."

Screaming as he fell, he hit the concrete and the clay beneath him so hard, it began to crumble. Realizing that Buffy was not about to check on him, he shambled back to the factory. He looked at Spike, still wheelchair-bound. Spike shook his head, which had some sort of helmet on it.

"Can't talk now, Logan. We have to use Cerebro to locate Magneto."

Angelus nodded.

"Yup. Dru's been spiking the coffee with her blood again."


	45. Calling It In

**Calling It In**  
by Rob Morris

A new social worker had been sent to check on Dawn. Everyone liked her.

"Buffy, we all like her."

Buffy did not.

"I think there's something suspicious about her."

Willow shrugged it off.

"Everything lately has you jumpy. Me. The geek-kings."

Xander couldn't see it.

"Its just bureaucracy. Once they involve themselves, its hard to un-involve them. You haven't done anything, so that's why you resent  
her."

And each present in their own way, gave forth with a similar opinion.

"Jumping at shadows."

"Totally nice."

"Your problem--not hers."

Buffy nodded, smiled, and pulled out a document. She then read it aloud.

"We, the undersigned, as a result of the Ted and Demonic College Roommate incidents, agree to listen to Buffy and not disagree with her and to not act contemptuously the next time someone gives her the creeps."

Passing it around, each gulped in turn as they remembered putting pen to paper.

"I'll start the net-search."

"I'll ask around her other cases."

"I'll see if she reminds me of anyone I've met."

As Dawn bitterly made the first of a series of investigative phone calls, she softly snarled.

"It's not fair. I wasn't even in existence when I signed that!" 


	46. Unreal NonGenius

**UnReal Non-Genius**  
by Rob Morris

The witch woke up suddenly. She had expected an attack, but one had yet  
to come. Still, she had wards against the approach of any magical  
attack. She would at least have warning.

*Aaaammmmyyy*

She rose, and picked up the power-capture crystal.

"Rosenberg...bound!"

But Willow was nowhere in sight, so she attributed it to nerves and went back to sleep.

*AAAAAAAmmmmyyyyyyyyy!!!*

Despite random gesturing for poltergeists, demons and varied magic entities, Amy found no power behind the seeming wail.

"Who's there?"

She didn't care. She could keep Willow at a safe distance. And she really wasn't scared by anyone this side of Hecate.

*This is Hecate, Aaaaaaaammmmyyy.*

Amy gulped. This would tend to explain why she couldn't banish or locate the voice.

"What does thee desire of thy servant, O Hecate?"

*In The Name Of The Moon, I Will Punish You*

"Errrr...is this about the recent hex?"

*Verily, I Say Thee Nay, And What Is More, I Say Thee Never! For three years, you remained as a user of my continual power of change. You've Had Your Way. Now You Must Pay.*

Amy was stunned.

"Three years? But I was a rat! I was helpless to break the link."

*Mortal concerns are not mine, Aaaaammmyyy!!*

"Wait. Is this really Hecate?"

*I know what you keep in your dresser, Amy. I know what you do with it. Why do you use devices instead of seeking natural release?*

"Should-should I begin seeking it now?"

*Do so. If your offering should please me, I will contact you again, and grant you such power as will turn an entire building into merest popcorn.*

Gingerly, Amy checked the doors and windows, and turned on the radio. It would be a long night.

* * *

When they were about two miles away, Kennedy burst out laughing.

"Oh, man! No wonder she loves you. That was priceless. How'd you get Amy so good?"

Xander shrugged.

"Da Nada. She's a skittish magic addict with a vicious streak. She's so paranoid, I bet I could have had her 'seeking release' on the dorm's front lawn."

Kennedy held the odd emblem-shaped radio.

"What is this thing?"

Xander took it back.

"Its an old Transformers Voice-Changer. Willow altered it a while ago to catch signals from cordless phones and transmit as well. We were hoping to use it against the Mayor. But it worked well against our pal Amy. Nobody messes with Willow while Harris is breathing. Even if she did break several oaths about the Underoos. Sokay though. I have the Dreaded Pretzel Rod Incident. Not pretty."

Kennedy snickered.

"I am gonna walk up to Amy tomorrow and say a nice sarcastic Hiya. Bet she hasn't had an ounce of sleep."

Xander nodded.

"Do whatever you want. Just--don't shake her hand."


	47. Drifting

**Drifting**  
by Rob Morris

EARLY DECEMBER 26TH, 1998

"Don't Forget The Shovel."

That was all Buffy had said, as they met atop the snow-swallowed hill. The weather correction had not come quite as quickly as predicted, and that meant there was only one thing to do. Buffy stood with her shovel.

"Nobody backs out. This needs to be done."

Cordelia shook her head.

"What about the vamps?"

Xander answered his ex, and things were civil for then and there, anyway.

"They have a harder time getting around in this than most of us do. The dead slip and slide quickly."

Faith looked down, shaking her head.

"Its been a while. But I'm not backing out."

Oz was not quite his usual calm self.

"I could use the extra fur, right about now. That looks cold."

Willow seconded him, in her own inimitable way.

"Okay. Do I need to point out that snow is not an integral part of my minority-type Decemberish traditions?"

Angel and Giles looked at one another, tensions mainly but never wholly gone.

"Chicago, 1979."

"Uh-uh, Watcher. Jersey Shore, 1978. Way worse."

Joyce tried to walk away, but a group glare had her picking up the shovel again.

"Ex-hippies only do warm things. This is not a warm thing."

Buffy signaled the first motion.

"Dig! Now...turn them around...."

She pointed and smiled.

"We Ride!"

And enemies that weren't friends, friends that knew the pain of friends, lovers that had yet to choose up, and friends that weren't yet enemies, rode their shovels down the hill of snow sent by powers unseen to thwart an evil that was not yet ready to strike, and would never know simple pleasures like this.


	48. The Puzzle

**The Puzzle**  
by Rob Morris

DECEMBER 15, 2001

A shaking Willow pointed at the TV screen.

"That--that--stupid tree! Tell me they didn't use magic to make that get all better!"

She ran upstairs, and locked her door. A glaring Dawn waited to make sure she was gone.

"She even has to ruin the annual Charlie Brown viewing? I hate her. I mean, I really hate her."

"Dawn..."

"No, Buffy! Everyone at school thinks I did this to my hand on purpose, to get attention. Do we have to keep her here? Sell the house. But get--her--out! And if I see her druggie friend around here again, I'm breaking out the crossbow!"

Dawn now walked upstairs, carefully checking for any emergence by Willow. When her door clicked, Buffy gestured to Xander to follow her to the kitchen. There, he asked a painful question.

"Amy dared to show up here again? There are places you don't go, and for her, this house is about ten of those."

Buffy sighed.

"She's an addict, Xander. She was smart enough to only ask to borrow money, this time. But Dawn wanted to stake her, or find a giant cat. Maybe Amy was only an enabler. But in Dawn's mind, she loved Willow before Amy returned, and hated her not long after."

Xander started to boil some water for some hot chocolate. Finding a broken but sealed candy cane, he kept it aside to swirl in the hot chocolate, when it was ready.

"That's a powerful association. But I still have questions about Amy."

"As do we all, my friend. As do we all."

He sat back down as the water boiled.

"Nah, its not just 'how could she do this'? We've all been there. In fact, it was in her company that I did something pretty low, all of my own choice."

Buffy looked up.

"Then what're your questions?"

The water boiled, and Xander poured, foregoing marshamallows for the candy cane pieces.

"See, its like this. A diabetic will binge on sweets. A guy who's had a lung removed will smoke. Someone who's had a bypass or two will down a few kielbasi and beers. But usually--none of those people do this right after they've gotten out of the hospital. It may take a month. But unless the signs are way obvious, they don't do it within the first few days."

Buffy actually found herself enjoying the minty hot chocolate. So far twice this evening, her thankfully platonic friend's bachelor skills had livened up the cuisine. The first time had been when he dabbed lemon juice and pepper on the fishcakes prior to cooking, removing at last the eternal cardboard taste.

"Yeah. That's usually the time when the person is all vows and good behavior. But some addicts are worse than others. If my hate-list weren't so chock-full of power-addicts, some of them might be alive today. So to speak."

Xander shook his finger, just a bit.

"Yeah, but consider Amy. She has been burned by magic a total of three times, all in major ways that even a hardcore addict would have trouble ignoring. Her Mom's second childhood. My stupid love spell. The rat-ting at the stake. Now, she gets out of that, and automatically, she's 'Go Ask Alice'?. I checked. Her father's still alive. In the chaos after the Ascension, she somehow got graduated with everyone else. Not that much time has passed, and she seemingly was not aware as a rat. So I'm asking--why did she dip into pathetic so quickly? Willow was just out of control. But Amy had three big demos of why 'Magic Bad'. Addiction, I can accept. Stupidity--I'm there. But she was barely back in clothes when she slipped back into the mystic needles of Munopor. That, Buff-meister, is a major non sequitur."

Buffy was about to correct him on this, as well as calling her 'Buff-meister'. But she stopped, and did neither. Instead, she merely said some simple words.

"Yeah. I guess that doesn't exactly follow, now that I think about it."

But Amy was an addict, and so was Willow, now, so their conversation quickly turned back to helping the friend they most cared for. Yet their stray thoughts were left to wonder about Amy's oh-so rapid reversion.

* * *

A FEW WEEKS EARLIER, SUNNYDALE SCHOOL BOARD HQ

She smiled.

"So I do get a diploma?"

The clerk nodded.

"There were so many gone missing, after that last incident, we just decided to clear the ledgers, in case someone needed rehab or had amnesia. Oh--and it seems we have one of your personal possessions--although it was damaged in the final explosion."

Amy was in her glory. Human again, a diploma in hand, and a forgotten keepsake soon to be hers once more. The clerk brought out the box.

"This belonged to your mother, I believe. You can have it. We believe in fresh starts, as you might imagine. I know a trophy repair shop that can have it as good as new for less than fifty dollars."

Amy's heart went in her throat, and that throat was now bone-dry. The threat was only a potential one. But what a threat to again live under. Maybe she was finally dead. Or maybe she was merely free, waiting to strike, gathering her formidable power. Amy decided then and there to start trying to feel really good, really fast.

When Amy left in a great hurry, the clerk shook his head and threw the broken cheerleader trophy in the garbage.

"Maybe it holds a bad memory for her."


	49. Fingers Do The Walking

**Fingers Do the Walking**  
by Rob Morris

SEPTEMBER, 1998

Buffy had tried to excuse herself from her mother's dear friend Pat a total of five times.

Guess her success.

"Well, I guess that having me back is causing Mom some problems. I'll try to do better."

"Try? You think that's good enough? If I had my way, you'd be back at the clinic. I mean, why your mother didn't keep you there is just beyond me."

Buffy felt a rage swell that no amount of hitting or yelling could alleviate. So she bypassed all that, and picked up a thick book, which she placed on the table. Pat stared.

"Why the phone book? Who are you calling?"

Buffy took her index finger, jammed it through the phone book, and pulled it out of the deep, visible hole she made quite uninjured. She gave the book to Pat.

"I'm calling you. Out. Go support Mom. Blindly. Don't mention book."

And for the remaining seven hours of her life, Pat did not mention this incident.


	50. The Other End

**The Other End**  
by Rob Morris

Maureen viewed the tape again, shaking her head.

"Lydia--we trusted you..."

The phone rang, and she was happy to turn the damning tape off.

"Oz? Oh, honey, how are you....Jordy? Well, when he's about your age, maybe. The condition doesn't hit until late puberty...what do you mean, how long? Your mother didn't tell you? I swear to God, if my sister's chest wasn't attached, you'd have gone hungry as an infant. Well, in time, you'll find control...loved ones are tricky, hun. They can calm or trigger....No, Uncle Ken is from a like clan. It's a safety valve, and you don't have to lie quite as often....well, tell me how it turns out, and maybe bring that redhead around---no, not at this time of the month. Okay, kiddo. Who's your favorite Aunt? You're welcome."

She hung up, and shook her head.

"By the way, Oz? You might turn into a wolf someday. Hell of a detail to leave out, sis."

As Lydia prepared to leave for the day, Maureen stopped her.

"Watch this."

The day-care guardian merely shrugged at the tape that showed her slapping Jordy hard across the head--twice.

"Okay! You know how he gets. But I'll tell you what. I won't report you for spying on me, and I'll never do it again."

Outside, Ken locked the doors and turned on the stereo in the garage. Maureen saw the moon in the skylight above her.

"I know you won't." 


	51. Hath Its Priveleges

Hath Its Priveleges  
by **Rob Morris**

His bags packed for Sunnydale, Angel took care of one last piece of  
business. Lilah was stunned.

"You have got to be kidding me."

Angel was as steadfast as he was about Connor's fate.

"Do it."

Lilah shrugged.

"Look, he has a contract, the same as me. This may disappoint, but it  
won't destroy him."

Angel looked her straight in the eyes. Perhaps someday soon, she would  
be cheerfully ordering him to drink Cordelia's blood while the severed  
heads of his other friends lay dumb on his desk. Maybe they had plans to  
clone him, and breed a separate body for Angelus. Maybe Doyle would turn  
out to be one of the senior partners, laughing his demon ass off at the  
long-term scam. But for then and there, he was the boss, and so demanded  
his due, real or feigned.

"Just do it, and then place the ad."

And so it was that the next day, all the major newspapers in LA ran the  
following job advert :

ELEVATOR OPERATOR WANTED

APPLY FMR. OFFICES OF WOLFRAM & HART


	52. The OneEyed Man Is King

**The One-Eyed Man Is King **  
by Rob Morris

**LOS ANGELES**

**MID-AUGUST, 2003**

In what had been Wolfram&Hart's in-house ICU, Angel watched Xander Harris caress the face of the comatose Cordelia Chase. A secure facility had finally been found to care for her, at least to Angel's satisfaction, and this would be her last night near her friends for a good long while. He mumbled words from a song, older than some, not nearly as old as others.

*The Powers-That-Be; That Force Us To Live Like We Do; Bring Me To My Knees; When I See What They've Done To You.*

Xander looked up at him.

"Pretenders, right? That group that releases an album every billion years or so?"

Angel had of course seen quite a bit in his time, and done perhaps even more. Still, the sight of Xander's lost eye made him wince inwardly.

"Yeah. 'Back On The Chain Gang'. Most of Chrissie Hynde's old band had just died, I think. Personal apocalypse turned Classic Rock staple."

It was a stretch for Angel to call Harris a friend of any sort. But it was not an impossible stretch. That two friends of varying degrees now occupied the same room in such obviously savaged form made the ensouled vampire very angry inside.

"Do you blame me for this?"

Harris at first just slowly shook his head. Since his arrival, Angel had heard nary a threat, pop culture reference, or even one of the dreaded eye-jokes Buffy had warned of.

"You were up against a Power. Who knows just how long or deep the fix was in? Maybe she even made it so you killed Jenny Calendar without vamping her. We'll never know."

"I guess we never will."

Both kept looking over longingly at the woman who might well never wake up. Xander asked a question while they did.

"Did you do what I asked?"

Angel had thought it a damned odd favor, until the results of the research had come through, explaining it all.

"Wes said that the group of assassins working for D'Hoffryn were pretty unrelenting, and very large. Even a whole army of Slayers would have been hard-pressed to stop them all."

Xander closed his remaining eye.

"She knew, didn't she? She preferred death in a last battle to letting D'Hoffryn have the last laugh."

Angel had only heard limited accounts of the Hellmouth's sealing, and the battle that preceded it. Yet somehow at that moment he could see clearly the images of Anya's death, slashed nearly in two by a Bringer.

"We have some resources, now. You want me to talk with Buffy, about maybe taking D'Hoffryn out?"

Xander smiled.

"Done."

The one word was spoken so much like a vengeance demon would have, Angel nearly started.

"How?"

Xander half-shrugged.

"Let's just say I sent him off to see the lizard, and leave it at that."

"Which--lizard?"

"Think Drive-In Movies."

At that, Angel actually did chuckle. He had never liked vengeance demons much. Angelus actually thought of them as competition and interference.

"Xander, mind if I go someplace I probably shouldn't?"

Harris stopped his own mild chuckling.

"Is this about me and Buffy?"

Angel waved a hand in the air.

"Her choice, and yours. No. This is about your eye. Ready?"

"I guess."

Angel began asking several questions.

"Your best friend is a very powerful witch. Why not try to restore it?"

Xander tapped the eyepatch.

"But what would the eye come back as? Mine? A demon's? A precog like poor Cordy? Or would someone be able to spy on all of us through it? Nah. For now, I only ask Willow to keep the socket viable and infection-free. When she hits her regular rhythm and stride again someday, then we'll talk."

Angel only tread on the sore subject one more time.

"Why the hell would that loser target your eye?"

Xander raised a finger.

"Mister Phony Southern Preacher just looked at me, said some gobbledy-gook about me being the one who sees things, then...pain. Pain."

Angel rolled his eyes. Trying to figure out a psycho was quite pointless.

"What sort of things were you supposed to see?"

"Who the hell knows? Can we drop this whole line? I mean, trying to trig out anyone like that could make me nuts even if it was someone else's eye. Which, by the way, it wasn't."

Angel tried to move to a better subject, and quickly found that there was none. The two could be at each other's throats over just about anything, at any given moment. Which, once again, didn't in and of itself preclude their being friends. Wes and Gunn were best proof of that.

"Is there anything you gave her that you want back?"

Xander stared at Angel, quite flabergasted.

"Its really like that?"

Angel looked down.

"Xander, I'm not just trusting Lilah or anybody else on this. I have some safeguards I'm putting on her that even Angelus couldn't get through. But I think that Jasmine down here and The First up your way pretty much proved that precautions can be driven around. So for now--yeah, its really like that."

Xander formed a fist, but unclenched it before punching the wall. His lip twitched as he again looked at Cordelia.

"My Dark Towers. She bought them, back when we were still going together. She said she wanted to understand my world. Plus, one of the minor characters in Book Four was named Cordelia. Not a nice or stable individual, and a bit too obsessed with doing well for her own good."

Angel smiled.

"Probably made our girl feel nostalgic."

A few moments' silence was interrupted by Angel again pushing the red button.

"About the eye..."

"Eye? BYE!!!"

Angel stopped him as he began to storm out.

"This isn't morbid curiosity, Xander! I need to figure something out about this."

"Why? You have a perfectly good psycho living inside you. Ask him."

"We're not exactly on speaking terms, doncha know. Now let me make my point."

Harris sat back down.

"So?"

Angel started doing his best Umberto Eco.

"Two people separated by the greatest caste system ever to hit any democracy--high school-- still manage about a year of happy smoochiness together. His hurting her coincides with the loss of her social and financial position-the three-way wreck of her future. The new future soon has her seeing visions that threaten to kill her. Either by design or by happenstance, these visions put her in the pocket of a renegade Power."

Xander blinked a few times.

"I'm--pond-scum."

Angel shook his hand in the air.

"That's not where I'm headed. Now, back in Sunnydale, this woman's old flame falls in with a woman whose power once actually created another reality. A vision made real--by his ex-girl's thoughtlessness. They almost get married..."

"I'm pond-scummier---iest?"

"Quiet. But a false vision of another future scares him off. A year or so later, his vision is under assault by the main servant of The First--who, if not a Power, has to be nearly their peer or something close to it. All because he supposedly sees things. Two big powers—two former high school sweethearts, and now between them only one eye is opened. Xander, by the time you were attacked, Cordy was comatose. I think there's still a connection between you. Maybe like Doyle passed what he had to Cordy, she maybe passed something of it to you. Maybe Caleb's words were more than just gobbledygook."

Xander grabbed his head, massaging his temples as Angel finished up.

"Can we just go down to that in-house karaoke bar? I'll even let you sing Manilow without grabbing a stake."

Angel gulped.

"Buffy told you?"

Xander kissed Cordelia on the cheek, wiped away a tear, and shook his head.

"If I ever had any special sight, I might have seen all this coming. No more eye, sight or visions talk?"

Having said his piece, Angel nodded.

"No more talk of eyes, and you even get to ask me an awkward question."

Xander looked around as they entered the decontamination hallway outside of the ICU.

"You want an awkward, non-visions question? Okay."

Xander's next words almost did for Angel what only Gwen Raiden had thus far been able to do. For they proved his earlier point and nearly restarted his heart.

"So how are things with your son?"


	53. Lucky In Cards

**Lucky in Cards**  
by Rob Morris

Buffy shrugged as Willow rode off with her new husband.

"After all that stuff about us accepting Tara, she does this!"

Xander waved at the receding happy couple.

"Look, this wasn't im-possible. I mean, what, me and Oz were just cover guys?"

Dawn was all smiles.

"All Tara would have wanted was that Willow be happy. That's all we should want."

Buffy had to agree.

"I guess. I just can't believe her time travel spell lead to such wedded bliss. The guy's almost an angel--don't say it."

Xander wiped away a tear.

"Its all gonna go her way now. I know it. No more disasters. No more heartbreak."

Dawn nodded.

"Who knows? Maybe hubby-man is Tara's past life, or something."

Buffy shouted to the far distance.

"Good luck, Willow! Good luck, Mrs. Little Joe Cartwright!"

Giles then pulled up.

"We must hurry. There's a demonic cattle stampede near the Honeymoon Haven. They're headed straight for the spas!"


	54. The Moment Ruined

The Moment Ruined  
by **Rob Morris**

MAY 6, 2003

Kennedy stood outside the bathroom, anxious and a little upset.

"Hey, Willow? I'm sorry."

Willow didn't answer. Kennedy again felt the pierced stud in her tongue,  
wincing at how sharp it could feel at certain angles.

"C'mon, Willow! I said I was sorry."

Still silence.

"Do you need...more bandages?"

Finally, the witch's voice was heard, though muttered and grumbling.

"I just couldnta tried to consummate my old High School crush...no, I  
hadda go and stay all 'controversial'...now I've got cuts in places I  
didn't know I really had places! Kennedy, If I find even one more  
bleeder... "

The words were probably not indicative of Willow's true mind, but the  
tone behind them was.

"Kennedy?"

"Yeah?"

"I wantcha to go and find Amy."

"And do what?"

The tone turned dark and vengeful.

"Ask her what it was like."

"What what was like?"

Kennedy felt a distinct chill as Willow answered.

"What it was like being a mouse?"


	55. Maggie Walsh, Resident

**Maggie Walsh, Resident**  
by Rob Morris

OCTOBER, 1999

Buffy had to get up after the lecture. Maggie was a dream come true.

"Doctor Walsh, I never thought I'd pass, let alone like, psychology. But you make it come alive."

Buffy's ignorance of Maggie's secrets was one way, sadly.

"Sometimes, Miss Summers, its better to keep certain things in a lively state than to destroy them entirely with narrow thinking."

"Wow! I wish you'd been able to psychoanalyze my old principal. He made school not a fun place to be, and I don't mean he didn't give us milk and cookies. He saw it as his job to drain the life from us."

Maggie laughed.

"Sounds like the job I left, back East. Imagine the most isolated, backwoods squared corporate town you've ever seen. I did some good work, there. Memorable stuff. But I had to get out. It was strictly a Hive mentality."

"Oh? Was it really all that bad?"

Walsh shrugged.

"The company built it up so it looked like a major megalopolis. But it was still cut off from most other places. You could nuke the place, and successfully cover it up without much effort."

Buffy laughed too, despite how uneasy she now felt for no reason she could define.

"Did this place have a name?"

Walsh sat back down.

"Oh, the town fathers gave it a fancy title. But again, it was so far backwoods, most of the staff and townsfolk just called it for Raccoon City."


	56. The Loss

**The Loss**  
by Rob Morris

NOVEMBER 25, 2001

"All I know is, I'm alone, you're not there, and all my friends are on this anti-Willow chorus thingy."

As far as reconciliation attempts go, Tara was beginning to wish this one would.

"Say what you like about me. You will anyway, and maybe I deserve some of it."

Willow tried not to sneer.

"Its not maybe, and you deserve some all of it. Do you know what a pillow feels like, against your face? Hint, hint. It doesn't feel like a person."

Tara could not resist the opening, despite the pain of the moment. "Well, then, change it into a person. That's your style now, right?"

Willow bit her lip. Revealing her current limitations since bingeing with Amy was just not in her.

"You sound just like Xander."

Tara nodded.

"Good. Maybe if I'd been more like Xander, you wouldn't have pushed me around so much."

This was turning bitter, Willow knew. But she also no longer cared.

"Now who's straying off the reservation?"

"Oh, stop! Don't even go there. But if you do go, here's one for you. Xander Harris is the kind of man I could tolerate living a lie with. If I had to go back in, he'd be on my short list just like that, ex-demon greed lady aside."

Willow was finding solid ground hard to find, of late.

"That's because you've only seen the 'intrigued-by-two-chicks-together' Xander. You've only seen the 'I sometimes give good advice' Xander. You've only seen the 'Lets all gang up on Willow' Xander ---Xander."

Tara folded her hands.

"He loves you. If you dare doubt my love, don't doubt his. He'd take a bullet for you."

"Maybe a real bullet. That way, he could be Doug Ramsey to my Rahne Sinclair. But the hard stuff? I asked him to meet you here, instead of me. No go. No way. That's your hero, Tara."

Tara looked up.

"I was hoping it wouldn't have to come to this. I've been avoiding magic like crazy. But---*Chronos Ante*"

Willow looked around.

"This is my parents' house--like it was when I was five!"

Tara pointed.

"There's Xander. Don't worry, this was an observation spell only. The whole Scrooge deal."

Willow looked at the little boy, then at her former.

"Couldn't you have done a George Bailey? Look at what he's playing with!"

Xander Harris was indeed holding an object precious to any Willow Rosenberg.

"I'm Supergirl--cousin of Superman-- which means we can't kiss, and I got killed off in the stupid Crisis--but I'm still cool!"

Willow winced.

"My Barbie! He's going to add my Barbie to his Megos! He'll dress her up in that lame skater's skirt and a cape, and draw an S---ohhhh, I knew it!"

Tara shook her head.

"You know nothing at all."

As Xander went on, a pair of hands snatched the doll away from him. An argument began in the next room between Willow's parents.

"I thought we agreed to keep these male-fantasy stereotypes away from my daughter! Its probably already distorted her self-image forever!"

Mister Rosenberg responded.

"Honey, its just a doll. But I'll tell you what. When Willow finds out Barbie's gone, YOU be the one to explain to a crying little girl why her toy is gone!!!"

"Oh, I'll do it. I can make her life ten times as miserable as she can make mine. She's got to get past these crying jags. They're emotional blackmail, and I won't have it."

Willow looked at Tara.

"You pulled a Marty McFly, didn't you?"

Tara said nothing, and Willow fell silent as her younger self came back from the ice-cream truck.

"Xander--where's Barbie?"

Willow saw familiar panic in the little girl's eyes.

"Xander Harris---where is my Barbie?"

The little boy gulped--and then moved to prove he was at least  
partially a hero.

"I stole your stupid Barbie, OKAY?!!"

A moment later, a little boy with a bruised arm and ice cream smushed on his face was pushed out of a house and down a set of porch steps. Crying, he nonetheless kept the silence that kept the peace in the Rosenberg household.

Back in the present, Willow looked at the restaurant table.

"My Mom--tried to pick a fight with me. I always knew she did that, despite what Dad would say. Xander knew how miserable that made me. He probably even knew I'd forgive him, eventually. But things were never the same between us."

Tara smiled.

"I think maybe we'd better make a visit."

Willow smiled, too.

"You're right!"

She laughed. It was all coming back together. Willow closed her eyes, and drank it all in while announcing her intentions.

"Ok. We'll go find my Mom--and cast a spell that will force her to write a self-help book that actually works! She'll be decades even getting through the first chapter. Tara, I'll need you to get a lock of her hair from the brush in the bathroom..."

Willow opened her eyes. She was alone.

"Tara?"


	57. Misguided

Misguided  
by **Rob Morris**

Cleveland, July, 2003

The portly man was still panting, after running for his life. Kennedy  
tried to calm him.

"Breathe, pal. Breathe. Now what kind of demon was it?"

He pointed.

"See for yourself. Its right over there."

Tough as she was, Kennedy was nearly sick at the sight of it. Multi-hued  
and dressed in some kind of hideous ceremonial garb, it looked plenty  
tough. She looked to the others.

"Okay. We've been telling Faith and Buffy that we're good enough. This  
is where we prove it."

As one, they rushed at their target, their victory never in doubt.

THE POLICE STATION, HOURS LATER

The portly man affected tears as best he knew how, as the police  
questioned him one last time over the tragedy.

"So then this gang of stake-wielding girls attacked and killed your  
sister-in-law for no reason at all?"

He sniffed.

"That's right, officer."

The policeman put his hand on the man's shoulder.

"We don't need you here any more. Go and be with your brother, Mister  
Carey."


	58. Recalling Sunnydale

**Recalling Sunnydale**

by Rob Morris

**SACRAMENTO, CA., MID-OCTOBER 2003**

The former actor nodded at his displaced predecessor.

"You're being more gracious about this than I would have thought."

The man's famous accent was not as much in evidence in these private talks. The former governor merely shrugged.

"The organizers of this recall I'll take to task. But the voters chose--and that's that. Now, there is one last item the governor must know of. Nasty business."

"I'm ready. Classified stuff?"

"More of an open secret. Ever heard of Sunnydale?"

The former actor listened, wide-eyed as he had not been for years. The man he replaced finished up.

"And only a pit is left. Lights. Demonic stench. Storms. A group of about forty young people and their presumed mentor emerged in a schoolbus. They were debriefed by highest-level Black Ops and have since vanished. Any questions, Mister Governor?"

The former actor breathed in, shook his head as though to clear it, then picked up his cell-phone. He placed a call to one of his closest friends in the entertainment business.

"Sly? Yeah, its me. Listen--I'm here with the former governor, and he just pitched me a script that you would KILL for!"

* * *

HOLLYWOOD, 2004

The new governor was beaming.

"Isn't this great?"

The old governor was not.

"If you say so."

The professional politician knew his successor was not stupid, or musclebound, or anything like that. Far worse, he was Hollywood, and once Hollywood folk had made up their minds on an idea, labels like conservative or liberal no longer mattered. 'High concept' did.

The star of the show was waiting for them, hoping that, like the legendary boxer he once portrayed, his career could get off the mat in one motion.

"I owe you two so big. This one is going to dominate the theatres. I think we can even overtake Harry Potter 3. I feel it."

The former governor saw the star wave at a noted actress of a differing political bent.

"Hey, Jane! That was a great retrospective on your Dad on Bravo!"

The former governor puzzled.

"Don't you resent what she did in North Vietnam?"

"Yeah, but I own the DVD rights to 'Golden Pond' and her aerobics stuff, and her film-restoration studio is remastering 'The Lords Of Flatbush' nearly at cost."

The new governor nodded.

"Around here, you have to learn to let things go. Otherwise, I would have killed Dana Carvey years ago."

The star chuckled.

"Have you seen 'Master Of Disguise'? You'd have done him a favor."

Before they entered the theater to begin the focus-group preview process, the star looked at the new governor.

"Ummm--Henry Winkler is still mad at you. Suggest you avoid."

"But I thought Ron intervened on my behalf."

"Nope. Anson asked him to stay out of it."

"Damn! I may want a career after politics. But how the hell do I function in Hollywood if I'm on Anson Williams' bad side?"

The former governor's cell-phone rang.

"John? John Kerry? No. No, I can't appear in Wisconsin. I'm--I'm a script consultant on 'Flintstones 3'."

Apparently, there was another candidate listening in on the other end.

"John? Tell Howard to stop laughing. Dean, I mean it!"

Finally, the initial trailer began to play inside as all were seated.

*In every generation, she comes...A Chosen One, The Fated Slayer Of Vampires And Demons. And Just As Surely, There Is The One That Must Train Her...*

******THE WATCHER******

DREW BARRYMORE is: Annette Winters, The Slayer

Annette: It has to be wood? What if I get splinters?

JIM CARREY is: Axel Horace, The Sidekick

Axel: Alllll I'm saying is---maybe we shouldn't go hunting the big nasty eat us up in one bite thingy without a few dozen nukes as backup!

SANDRA BULLOCK is: Fern Heidelberg, The Student Witch

Fern: Don't worry---I can make our clothes reappear. I'm thinking.

DAVID SCHWIMMER is: Seraphim, the reformed demon with doubts

Seraphim: Annette, I want to commit. Its just that I can't want not to not.

JERRY O'CONNELL is: Daniel 'Outback' Ausbacker, the man with a curse....

Outback: You don't understand. During a certain time of the month, I turn into...

CALISTA FLOCKHART is: Sarah Macleod, 'Outback's other self

Sarah: Fern...we REALLY have to talk...

EWAN MCGREGOR is: Rail, the American motorcycle rebel vampire who either wants to stop a Slayer's heart...or steal it away.

Rail: Yo, back in New York..we like our Slayers prone or dead...or both.

MICHAEL ROSENBAUM is: Drew Tucker, The hopeless nerd

Drew: This is just like in that episode of Star Trek!

AND SYLVESTER STALLONE IS WATCHER NILES RIPPER!!!

NR: So you're what we have to defeat The Leader?

COMING SOON

(NR Walks off, shrugging)

NR: Heh. The world IS doomed!


	59. OverInteractive

**Over-Interactive**  
by Rob Morris

It was a time after rebirth, but before an addiction became transparent. Before doubts became obvious. Before an odd alliance became an odder passion. The extended Scooby clan was watching one of many Fall premieres, in this case, that of 'Dark Angel'. The dialogue was scintillating.

*Logan, don't go after these guys!*

*Max, don't you understand? These are the laughers! These are the terrorists that did this to America, while the rest of the world cheered. They have to die.*

*Then let me do it. If you're sure its them.*

Xander, sitting snuggled with a woman he would hurt and yet would remain hard-pressed to see her own role in that hurt, shrugged and spoke.

"Its not them."

Spike, anxious perhaps to shoot Harris down, looked over at him.

"Makes you so sure?"

The reception from the cable company then went awry once again, but a gesture from a woman who would lose love twice in the same year corrected that. Her lover winced a bit, but said nothing as yet. Xander responded.

"Because. I mean, hasn't it always been obvious that the people behind the pulse were the evil corporate types that created Max and her pals?"

Actually, this pet theory of Xander's had only ever been obvious to him, but Spike seemed to find it intriguing, nonetheless.

"I get it. Make America all chaos-like, the better to conduct nasty experiments and such. Its what I might do."

Dawn was on the verge of telling two men she sported crushes on that they were making too much noise, when the on-screen Max turned and looked at Logan.

*Logan, could it have been them?*

*Well, I never did think we got them all last spring. Hey, thanks Xander. I appreciate the help.*

As he left the screen, Max nodded as well.

*Thanks, Xander. This one's been a real obsession with him. We'll let you know how it turns out.*

After Max left the screen, five minutes of dead air followed before the network pleaded technical difficulties. All eyes turned on a sheepish Willow.

"Well, you kinda sorta have to admit, I did improve the reception."

* * *

The fall premieres continued, amid a promise of no more magic. Comments were another story, however. Dawn stared in disbelief as 'Charmed' played out.

"Maybe I'm not the one to talk. But just like that, they bring in a sister we've never seen before?"

Spike rubbed his head.

"Oh, C'mon! Just how long is Cole supposed to stay lock-step goody-goody?"

Buffy rolled her eyes.

"Death is, ya know, supposed to mean something? I mean, something other than Phoebe's new grim-funk."

Willow shook a finger at the screen.

"What if they beat the Source too soon? Who'll be the big-bad then? You can't have a show like that without a clear-cut Big-Bad."

Xander bit a slice of cheddar, then added in his two cents.

"Is Leo just there to fetch things and maybe get beaten up?"

Anya motioned to Tara, and the two withdrew.

"Tara? Which one of those three is Captain Janeway?"

Tara shook an opened palm.

"No, Anya...this is the one that takes place 200 years before that."

"Ok. So which one of them had the maybe-alien baby?"

"Ummm....Piper, I think."

ANOTHER UNIVERSE, SAN FRANCISCO

Paige, who had missed a full season of the popular 'Buffy', stared in disbelief as its sixth season began.

"Maybe I'm not the one to talk. But just like that, they bring in a sister we've never seen before?"

* * *

NOT THE SUNNYDALE UNIVERSE

SAN FRANCISCO, LATE SEPTEMBER, 2001

The search was over. One sister cried inconsolably.

"How can it be gone?! It was our last best hope for getting her back."

The now-oldest sister tried to keep her head.

"I had nine kinds of nasty wards set around that thing. The Source himself couldn't touch it without yielding up 90% of his power."

The loss ate at the younger one yet again.

"So what the hell do we do now?"

"We-we keep trying the finder spell, to call back that which is lost. Truth be known, I didn't feel too great calling on some Egyptian god, even for her."

The youngest got up, and brushed herself off.

"Morris called. They're finally releasing her body. We can bury her, now."

The older remained, and after she was alone, attempted to use a power that was never hers, but that she would see once again. Holding out her hand, she gestured at the now-empty spot.

"Urn."

All that occurred, though, was the falling of a discarded TV Guide from a shelf. The witch looked at it, hoping for a clue.

"Alyson Hannigan talks about Buffy : Season Six? Yeah, that's right. The TV came to life, and someone inside it stole the urn."

But they had long ago proofed the TV and lines against all matter-transmission magics, fair and foul, so a warlock or demon using that without their knowledge was out. So she said the hated words.

"Pru is dead, and she isn't coming back."

* * *

THE SUNNYDALE UNIVERSE, that same moment...

Tara found Willow exhausted, emaciated, looking like someone had drained her drier than even a dechipped Spike could. But clutched in her hands was the one thing the powerful Wiccan had sworn to get. The means to restore a Slayer.

"You found the Urn Of Osiris?"

Willow handed it off and mumbled before falling unconscious.

"S'no biggie. It was just lying around in somebody's attic..."


	60. Petty Vengeance

**Petty Vengeance**  
by Rob Morris

OCTOBER, 1999

SUNNYDALE TEMPORARY HIGH SCHOOL ANNEX

Buffy and her two closest friends sat near the outside entrance to the cafeteria, chatting. They had only to wait. For the enemy would surely come, as it had in two previous incarnations.

An officious, stern-looking woman who looked a lot like all the family-ripping social workers on 'Unsolved Mysteries' came along, almost on cue. She glared at Buffy.

"Don't you three have something you can be doing?"

*Oh, Please, thought the Slayer. Let this be the new Principal.*

"No, Ma'am. Just standing here, chatting away, like teenagers."

Xander saw the face muscles forming. It was going to happen. It was going to happen. An act possibly better than all his dreams of sex.

"Well, I'm Principal Chalmers. And I just may have something for you to do."

"But its like she said. We were just engaging in idle chit-chat about nothing."

Willow held back the urge to magick this thing to a conclusion. It had to be pure, and it would be, as Chalmers responded to Xander's words.

"Well, in my book, idle chit-chat about nothing leads to trouble. Then again, almost everything involving teenagers does. So you three just volunteered for duty on the committee for the Halloween Parade."

Ecstasy flowed freely among the three dear friends. Payback was to be in the here and now. Buffy started, as always.

"Nope. Don't have time. Won't do it."

The Principal huffed.

"I could call your parents."

Xander built up the charge.

"You mean someone like you has mastered the art of dialing and speaking? Wow!"

She now puffed.

"Consider all three of you, and anyone stupid enough to hang around with you, on detention for the next month! Go to my office!"

Willow smiled, and delivered the coup de grace.

"Go to my Hell."

Buffy informed the raging baloney what she was up against.

"See, we only came here to see the temp high school site."

Xander shrugged.

"Which---high school wise--we kinda graduated from, four months back."

Willow held up an opened palm.

"But see--we knew that you might be just like our previous principals. So we waited a little."

Xander shook his head.

"Being a VSIP--Very Self-Important Person, you didn't disappoint. You mandatorily volunteered us, like a good little fascist."

Buffy patted her on the back.

"In the name of the entire surviving graduating class of 1999---I proclaim your power over us is nil. Remember always that at least three young people walked away from one of your barked orders, laughing as they did. And there was nothing you could do about it."

When they had left, Principal Chalmers immediately wanted to take her revenge on whatever student presented themselves, past or present. In the shadows of the main school entrance, she saw someone. Her prey was sighted.

"You! Past or present student?"

"Errr---past?"

"Perfect. I am going to keep you in my office until nightfall, then have you arrested for loitering and trespassing, Miss----"

The blonde smiled, confusing Chalmers.

"Harmony Kendall, Miss Principal."

For the record, Mister Woodman from 'Welcome Back Kotter' became Principal early the next week. 


	61. Vengeance After Bargaining

**Vengeance: Bargaining**

by Rob Morris

**OCTOBER 15TH, 2001**

**SOMEWHERE NORTH OF SUNNYDALE**

The remaining biker demons saw Xander throw a lighter outside the tavern. An explosion followed.

"Your choppers."

Spike strode in next, having taken a more personal touch.

"Those fire trucks?.Your rat-hole."

Willow scattered ashes at their feet, grinning a bit too much for even Spike.

"Your Un-PC b-word significant others, and their hellspawns."

Buffy emerged from the other side of the tavern, biker-demon heads falling ahead of her. With a battle-axe in hand, she pointed.

"Cross Sunnydale off your map. Or next time we start by making biker demon capon'. Wanna hear the recipe?"

No one chose to.


	62. All Bets Are Off

All Bets Are Off  
by **Rob Morris**

COLORADO, EARLY JUNE 2003

The schoolbus was running well enough, but at some point, it was going  
to be stopped by some police force somewhere, just doing their job. So  
it was that Xander struck upon a plan to repaint the yellow transport in  
some shade a little less likely to have concerned parents placing phone  
calls on behalf of other imagined parents. Miraculously, the chaos in LA  
meant that Faith, whose last known location was vanished Sunnydale, had  
been declared dead. But there was no sense pushing things. Willow and  
Dawn created new documents for them all and their mode of transport, via  
the net.

Giles went to a bus locker in Las Vegas and produced a series of  
security cards. These unlocked motels across the nation, purchased by  
the Watchers decades ago as safe houses. Even with the Council's fall,  
their taxes and utilities were still paid up for months at a time, and  
they were always in areas with a large amount of other motels, so that  
tourists would not notice one that was closed off. Would-be thieves were  
deterred by a lack of monied residents and thorough but simple security  
measures. The cards were the only way to unlock the steel plating that  
blanketed the place well enough that a thief would have to make a lot of  
noise. Checking the results of the last battle was done with. Wound  
recovery was done with. This was chill time.

Each had a room, and simply relaxed. At the poolside, though, Buffy's  
relaxation was interrupted by a familiar whine.

"I can't believe all of Sunnydale is gone!"

Buffy looked and saw Andrew tearing up a ticket.

"I had The School only."

After the reformed nerd walked away, Buffy checked the ticket halves.

"What the hell?"

She saw Faith and Robin walking and nodding dejectedly.

"I had The School plus three square miles."

"Me? I bet small on things like this. They're sucker's bets. Just the  
Hellmouth."

Kennedy was sitting alone.

"Do you know that friend of yours has a thing for 80's music? It may not  
work between us. Also, she had all standing structures but not the  
foundation. Placed her second, the wench. But her side bet on the damage  
not being visible from the air wiped her out."

Near the former potentials' rooms, Buffy found tickets with coordinates,  
small maps, and Sunnydale landmarks scrawled on them, next to dollar  
amounts.

"Giles would never do this. Xander!"

At last sporting a slightly smaller eyepatch made of durable material  
constructed by Willow from magic as a safe alternative to the iffy  
prospect of restoring the lost eye, Xander met her around a corner of  
the hallway, holding a shoebox full of money. She felt furious.

"You sicko! Your girlfriend, the woman you almost married, is dead and  
crushed under all that debris you took bets on! Joking about the mall is  
one thing, Xander---but people we loved were in some of those compacted  
graves. How could you do this to Anya's memory?"

Xander simply shrugged.

"Just who do you think set this betting pool up, and made me promise to  
see that it was carried out?"

Buffy felt a piece of leftover ice drop off her heart. Who would place  
bets about a town's final and absolute destruction? Who would be so into  
the possibility of instant money?

"I'm so sorry. Its just I haven't heard you mourn or anything."

Xander nodded.

"When I first found out, I ran for her body like a dope. She would have  
hated me for dying like that.  
Then I tried saying how saving Andrew was stupid of her, but that too  
much disrespected a choice she made, and I could never really do that.  
Right now all I'm feeling is a physical ache from the realization that I  
will never touch her again. So since I'm unable to act that out fully,  
I'm concentrating on completing a task involving her other physical  
passion. Money."

If Buffy was now on the verge of tears, what she asked next, when  
answered, would push her over.

"So who won the pool? Who bet that all of Sunnydale would be destroyed?"

Xander handed Buffy the box of money, as he had been instructed to in  
the event the bettor was not there to take it.

"Spike."

When Buffy suddenly started having trouble breathing, Xander guided her  
to her room. She was placed on her bed, and he made a concession.

"I was wrong about him."

Buffy looked up.

"No, you weren't. He was exactly who you always said he was. But he was  
also who I said. A man, who, when given that one good clear shot, came  
through like a champion. And now? There's even less left of him than  
Anya."

"Buff, its gonna hit us in so many waves, and in so many ways, we're  
never gonna get it right. That's why they call it grief. I am right now  
grieving for a woman that once cursed my name, a vampire that kidnapped  
and tried to kill me, and some girls I barely knew who, amazingly,  
actually had more interest in viewing my lower body than Anya. I don't  
know if my folks made it out. And if someone said I could either get one  
of those drunks back, or Spike, it wouldn't even be a contest. Because  
hate him or tolerate him, I gave a damn about Spike."

Buffy took his hand.

"We four core Scoobies are gonna keep on screwing it up, aren't we?  
Giles will keep on making decisions for me that I would never want.  
Willow will slowly lose the confidence she gained when she cast the  
scythe-spell. You will quip at the worst possible time and then mope.  
Logic aside, I will somehow find a way to complain and moan about how  
having so many new Slayers is screwing things up. Giles and Willow are  
talking Slayer Academy at some point. But Xander, I so do not want some  
girl hitting her 22nd birthday and feeling like I do right now. Not  
without friends like you."

"Then make it a Scoobie Academy. Don't just assign the Slayer a Watcher.  
Assign a Wiccan, and--a--"

Xander smiled. He realized the psychotic phony preacher who maimed him  
had been right.

"Assign a Seer."

A new thought struck Buffy with this.

"Xander, there's no way I could have lived long enough to find that  
scythe without all three of you. Maybe--maybe when Willow awoke all the  
potentials, she also awoke--people like you and her and Giles. In fact,  
I know she did--and we're going to find them all. And in turn they'll  
find all the sweet oddball ex-demons who want a better way. Yeah. That  
is definitely one of at least two ways we'll honor the memories of Spike  
and Anya--and all the fallen."

"So what's the second way?"

To Xander's shock, she pulled him down on the bed next to her. She  
kissed him, long, hard and deep.  
She then looked at him.

"They were creatures of passion. And they were once together. So let me  
cure that physical ache and you'll show me what Anya was crowing about  
for the last four years."

"And you're sure we can deal afterwords?"

She put his hand to her chest.

"No. I'm not sure at all. Its a gamble."

Buffy grinned as she moved atop him.

"That's what makes it so great."


	63. The Captains Video

**The Captains Video**  
by Rob Morris

SUNNYDALE, 2003

Xander was left with vampsitting a daybound Spike, but he was less upset by this than some might have thought, and he quickly dealt by digging through his assortment of VHS and DVD's.

"Alright. Howzabout *Mrs. Doubtfire*?"

Spike shook his head.

"No. Even when I killed kids, I couldn't take Robin Williams and Sally Field gutting each other in front of theirs. What about *Requiem For A Dream*?"

Xander shook his hand in the air.

"People with depressing personal lives, at a time like this? Ahh! The Seinfeld Finale."

"Sod that. The people who beat them out in the end were twenty more times more selfish than they were. I've just spent almost two months listening to the ultimate self-interested, whiny being. Uh-uh. Voyagers finale?"

Xander wouldn't even consider it.

"NO! They got home and closed the door on the audience. Thunderbirds collection?"

Spike pushed it away.

"Yeah. I so want to see living puppets, having been one myself recently."

Xander tried one last time.

"Godzilla 2002? I mean, our potential apocalypse at least won't involve giant monsters."

"What happens in it?"

Xander checked his listings.

"Uh--possessed by the spirits of the dead from WW2, Godzilla goes on a bloody rampage, and three other monsters must stop him."

Spike nodded, and the bootleg went in the machine. A whiny voice was heard from upstairs. "What're you guys watching?"

Vampire and human were suddenly terrified at thoughts of running commentary throughout the movie. So they spoke as one.

"Mrs. Doubtfire!"

Andrew lay back down, muttering.

"Robin Williams should have been Riddler instead of Jim Carr...."


	64. BTVS Unlikely Alternate Endings

Unlikely Series Finales for Buffy The Vampire Slayer  
by Rob Morris

_1 - THE MARY TYLER MOORE ENDING_

The voice was harsh towards those who had given so much.

"I am the First Good, and though my evil counterpart was undone, many opportunities were squandered by your pointless bickering. So all but one are dismissed from my service. Now shall come the one true champion of light!"

Buffy, Faith, Angel, the Potentials and the Scoobies all stood in stunned silence. Anya finally said the dread, unbelievable words.

"I'll wake Andrew and tell him the news."

_2 - THE VOYAGER ENDING_

Angel nodded.

"We defeated him."

Buffy nodded.

"Yeah, we did."

Buffy then totally got promoted in a movie most people avoided.

_3 - THE DEXTER'S LABRATORY ENDING_

While the others slapped each other on the back, Dawn stood transfixed by the new Hellmouth seal. Buffy realized too late what was going on. Dawn smiled.

"Ooooh...What does THIS button do?"

_4 - THE COMIC BOOK ENDING_

The First looked out upon all its shattered servants, and all the dusted demons, and all the vampires suddenly either human or just gone forever. 

It smiled.

"This was merely a part of my master plan!"

_5 - THE COMIC BOOK ENDING COUPLED WITH THE SIMPSONS ENDING_

The First looked out upon all its shattered servants, and all the dusted demons, and all the vampires suddenly either human or just gone forever. It smiled.

"This was merely a part of my master plan!"

Buffy stopped by and grabbed her purse from the wreckage. She looked at the cackling First.

"No, it wasn't. You got your incorporeal ass handed to you."

The First hung its head.

"D'Oh!"

_6 - THE SPEED RACER ENDING_

Buffy : Well I'mreallygladwedefeatedthatfirstevil

becauseifwehadn'tnotjustherebutthewholeworld 

wouldhavebeendoomedforeverandthatsreallynot 

goodatallitstoobadaboutthatCalebbutIsupposehe 

haditcomingthebullyI'mgladhe'sgoneforgood.

Angel : IguessIbetterheadbacktoLAandmyfriendsand 

mysonwhonooneatallnowremembersbutIthinkI'llsee 

againsomedayBuffyitstoobadwecan'tbetogethernow

butmaybesomedayinthefuturewhenthingsarebetter.

Xander : OhmypooreyebutIguessIlookprettycoolwith 

aneyepatchafterallkindoflikeapirateItshardtobeliev e 

itsalloverbutIguessitreallyisalloverforgood.

Willow : I'vetotallytotallytotallygainedconfidencein 

magicandI'llbetIcandojustaboutanythingwithitjust 

waitandseeandKennedyandIdidn'thititofflikeIhoped.

Dawn : Heythere'sAndrewwhowasagainstusbutlater 

ontriedtohelpusoutbutnotverywellandhekilledhis 

friendJonathanwhowealllikedbetterbutIguesshe's 

okaynowAndrewiseverythingalright?

Andrew : I can't talk that fast. I hyperventilate.

_7 - THE DRAGONBALL ENDING_

Willow gestured.

"Nodehw Itram Yruf-Joyce!"

With Tara clasping her hand, Willow had known she could activate the seven crystal orbs one last time. Dawn ran up at top speed, and nearly bowled her mother over.

"Guess what, Mom. I'm a Slayer now, too!"

Joyce, the last of the beloved dead to return, half-smiled and half-winced.

"We'll talk, dear. But where's Buffy?"

Xander looked around with his restored eyes.

"She and Faith were right here a minute ago."

A MOUNTAINTOP IN TIBET

Faith charged herself up.

"Now, we'll find out who is The Slayer!"

Buffy was serene as she carried her energies to a crescendo.

"Glad to oblige-I just hope it's a good fight."

(They freeze-frame in mid-punch)

ANNCR : And as fist met flesh, no greater joy could be had in all the universe as two Slayer warriors going at it. The future will still hold challenges-but they'll be ready.

(Faith and Buffy bristle, still frozen)

"Can't-freaking move!"

_8 - THE CHEERS ENDING_

( Buffy and Angel are on a plane )

Buffy : Sunnydale is history!

Angel : Goodbye, LA!

( They smile; Hold hands )

Female Airport Anncr : There will be a slight delay due to fog, but we expect to have flights moving within a half an hour...Buffy, are you sure this is what you want? He already reverted again once this year. Plus, anywhere the two of you go together, at least for now, vengeance and trouble is going to follow.

Buffy : Ahhh..boy, look at that fog. Did you put on your sunscreen?

Angel : I have a blanket to put over my face. I'll be fine. heh. Never better!

Male Airport Anncr : The fog is expected to clear soon. Please extinguish any and all cigarettes, and turn off all electronic devices...Angel, think about what you're doing, and who you're doing it with. You have a rich, full life in LA, and do you really think your friends can handle Lilah and company by themselves? Is it Buffy you're running to, or Connor's memory you're running from?

( They look at each other )

B : We can't do this.

A : No, we can't.

( They both pick up swords )

B : At least, not until we find who's making those stupid announcements.

( People in the airport talking )

Person : Who are Buffy and Angel?

Person 2 : I dunno.

_9 - THE 1970'S SATURDAY AFTERNOON ENDING_

( Like mad, the schoolbus drives to get out of the collapsing Sunnydale )

Faith : We're not gonna make it!

(As the bus plummets to its doom, Willow looks out)

Willow : I can't focus!

( B,X,W,G, D all stare dumbly. Some of the Potents begin to scream; Andrew stands up )

Andrew : GAMERA! HELP USSS!

(Bouncy theme music begins to play; A giant circle with flames coming out of four corners shows up; Gamera's head and arms pop out; catch the bus )

Buffy : It is good that Gamera has saved us.

Dawn : I'll sure say that again.

Willow : Gamera is a very great hero.

Xander : It is a pity about our friends, though. For they are gone.

Giles : Yes. But at least they will not come back as monsters, demons or other vampires.

( All nod as one )

( Pull back; The screen is being watched by three familar characters )

Crow T. Robot : This time, the Mads have gone too far!

_10 -_ _THE UNFAIRLY STEREOTYPED PARODY OF THE STEREOTYPE-LADEN _

_MARTI NOXON-WRITTEN ENDING_

( Through Willow, Buffy speaks telepathically to all the new Slayers of the world )

Buffy : ...And know that as you go forth, you are every bit the equal of any man...Will, can you see them?

Willow : Yeah.

Buffy : How are they responding?

Willow : One girl just tore some boys' bathing suits off. Another just screamed bloody murder right in her boyfriend's ear for cooking their steak medium well instead of medium. A third just left her own toilet seat up...I'm calling to the rest...

Buffy : And?

Willow : ...none of them are calling back.

Xander : True equality at last.

_11 - THE POP CULTURE ENDING_

Buffy : (Looks at back of bus) Xander, where did you get this bus?

Xander : So I had to repaint it. It runs, doesn't it?

( Back Says : Careful-Nervous Mother Driving )

Willow : It was either that or the Station Wagon from-ya know. "Here's The Story..."

( A strange, hearse-like car with a strange family pulls up to the Sunnydale pit )

Herman : See! I told you this time-share was worth it.

Lily : Well, it certainly has that died-in look.

Granpa : Boy, Sunnydale never changes. Same old place.


	65. The Ballad Of Ole' BlankEyes

**The Ballad Of Ole' Blank-Eyes**

by Rob Morris

* * *

**The Birth Of Ole' Blank-Eyes**

Willow was obviously concerned about her friend as the Ascension approached.

"Just what part will he play in this?"

Buffy nodded.

"Vital. He's using that military training he got from that Halloween spell  
to get the other students ready for when the fight begins."

"But–doesn't that fade more and more over time?"

"Well-yeah. But he said he would just improvise the rest."

Across town, Xander showed how to move their weapons in formation.

"Alright people—"

He began.

"There-she-was-just-a-walkin-down-the-street...."

The crowd responded as one-almost.

"....Singin' Doo-Wah-Diddy-Diddy-Dum-Diddy-Do!"

In the back, Harmony Kendall pouted.

"Oh, like learning this is gonna do any good!"

* * *

**Ole' Blank-Eyes is Back**

NOVEMBER, 2001

"So...this amulet will make Cordy and her pals forget our last encounter?"

The merchant nodded.

"Entirely."

Harmony's face distended.

"Then here's my payment!"

As she leaped at the merchant, Harmony was bounced back against his mystic shield. He frowned.

"Moron. I deal with vampires all the time."

Harmony reached into her purse, and pulled out her mother's pearl-handled snub-nosed pistol.

"Then how do you deal with this?"

He slapped her, and took the pistol as payment. Harmony was thrown out.

"Mom's gonna stake me!"

But she had the amulet, and so proceeded to Angel's smelly old hotel. It worked like a charm. Cordelia saw her, and remembered nothing of her being a vampire or her betrayal.

However, Harmony had forgotten something vitally important. Cordelia did remember one of her last encounters wih Harmony, prior to her death at Graduation.

"Cordy--its---"

Cordelia saw her, grabbed Harmony by the collar, and held her against the wall, stake in hand.

"Harmony--if you think that we're still friends after YOU suggested I date Jonathan The Geek, then you are soooo wrong. If you were a vamp, why I'd take this stake and I'd run you through from head to toe. Got Me?!"

Harmony was thrown out, and a fashion-conscious Cordelia donated the amulet to Good Will.

* * *

**Ole' Blank-Eyes Goes Four-Eyes**

In broad daylight, Harmony surprised her childhood nemesis, Xander Harris.

"Harmony?"

She smiled.

"Like my protection, Xander? I am going to deliver your drained-dry body to the Slayer, in broad daylight! Ain't life grand---for me?"

Xander pointed.

"Harmony--you're still burning."

Realizing her foolproof protection had failed her, Harmony barely found cover in time. Two nights later, she re-visited a certain shop, and slammed down a pair of Ray-Ban sunglasses, pouting as she did.

"I want my money back. These things didn't work like they did for those guys in the commercial!"

The clerk just stared.

"Didn't you steal these?"

* * *

**Ole' Blank-Eyes' Rain of Error**

Spike recounted his woes.

"Buffy won't have me. Harris beat me up. I still have the chip. Clem is out, looking to score a copy of 'Qatermass And The Pit'. The dirt-nappers are dumber than dirt."

He smiled.

"Aaah, at least I've hit dead bottom. There's nowhere to go from here, except...."

"Spikey!" Spike's eyes rolled up, heaven-ward.

*Before you cast me into the lake of fire, there's questions I want answered, and she is bloody-well ten of them!*

"Hello, Harmony."

As her bra-less chest bounced just a bit under her shirt, Spike wondered if her bra-less brain did the same thing inside her skull. He then realized how dumb a question that was.

"Spikey, I brought you something. Its a little master plan I cooked up, although I can't really make use of it. But you'll cut me in when you rule, right?"

*I'll put a Spike-mask on her, record some insults about Anya, then shove her bound and gagged in Harris' direction. The git must be good for that, at least.*

"What's your plan, Harmony?"

Capped and polished teeth that needed neither showed as she smiled.

"Well, I was listening to the radio, and I learned all about the she-demon that caused the Great Flood. It was soooo way compelling."

Reeling from the thought that she would ever listen to an educational show, Spike kept back his comment.

"Go on."

"So, I recorded it--it was a brief piece, and decided to try and learn how to summon her. The Flood, Spikey! It'll be a Cowabung-A-pocalypse!"

*Maybe Harris has a cell-phone. We can scarf down an onion pizza before he kills me.*

"Harmony--the Flood wasn't caused by any she-demon, or he-demon. The Man Upstairs got ticked with his kiddies, and sent down the rains. Simple as all that."

Harmony then looked more confused than normal. This was a feat.

"You believe in...him?"

Spike shrugged.

"You know. If there's a hell, then there must be a...."

"K-Mart?"

Spike stared, thinking hard of how good sunlight would feel, right about then.

"Riiiggght! K-Mart. Harmony--leave your recording. I'll get back to you."

She put down the cassette tape, the empty smile never leaving her equally-so head.

"Just remember---I get Nevada!"

"Viva Las Vegas, luv."

She left, and Spike stared at the tape. One hour.

"I won't play it."

Two hours.

"I'll marry Riley before I'll listen to any 'research' done by Harmony Kendall."

Three hours.

"I'll send it off to Giles. Yeah. That'll get me in good with the Slayer. No it won't."

Four Hours.

"Now, on the one hand, Harris is a great sodding idiot. But Anya has to realize that the nuptials were all buggered by her former victim, and so technically....I'm not going to play it."

The fifth hour came, and he gave in, after a valiant effort to retcon Dawn into the whole Angelus cycle.

"Please don't be something stupid...something too stupid...oh, hell!"

As it played, he didn't scream, or cry. He just sat there dumbstruck, finding solace in pretending that Buffy had staked him after a row of passion. For what played was not precisely about a water-summoning she-demon.

*This Here's The Story Of A Girl...Who Cried A River And Drowned The Whole World...*

* * *

**Brother of Ole' Blank-Eyes**

JANUARY 10, 2002

Buffy saw the bespectacled young man tinkering with the geek-kings invisibility ray. Perhaps finding these fools plus Willow's relative recovery had her calmed down, because she asked questions first.

"Who the hell are you, and what are you doing in my house?"

From the kitchen emerged Xander and Willow, who would, Buffy had contemplated, probably still hang out together even if the two mutated into giant Japanese monsters.

"Oh, hey, Buff. Sooory about the not-filling-in-at-all thing."

Xander nodded, a break from wedding plans obviously doing him good.

"Yeah, but Dex here has a limited timetable. He and Billy Gates have a luncheon, right, pal?"

The man looked up.

"Please, Xander. Gates is more leveraged than Enron. I just hope I'm there when he gets the cell-phone call. I have a Swiss account waiting to take all his stuff---at cost."

Buffy raised a hand.

"Ummm--intros all around?"

Willow pointed with some pride at the man.

"Buffy--this is Silicon Valley TNG--Dex Kendall of Kendallisms, Inc. We know him from before Books, Barbie or Batman."

The name could not escape a Buffy weary of comebacks.

"Dex--Kendall? Any relation to----"

Dex snorted, a bit geekily, but not quite.

"Don't I wish not. Ole Blank-Eyes, as I still prefer to call her, is my  
older sister."

Buffy was surprised, to put it mildly.

"Harmony has a super-mega-techie for a brother?"

Xander continued.

"Dex here was taken away from the Kendalls when he was about nine. They were tragically unfit, using my own folks as a standard. And yeah—he knows about Harmony."

Dex kept to his work as he responded.

"Which is why my HQ has precisely calibrated sun-lamps dotting almost every square foot."

Buffy watched his almost effortless work.

"That much bad--er--ya know?"

He smiled.

"As X and W here can tell you, I was a geek's geek's geek. I made Jonathan and his pals seem cool. Heh. I even affected an accent, to make people think I was adopted. But part of it wasn't me. Harmony would run wild, my folks would never stop her, and any effort I made to get back was thwarted before I got to it. In the beginning, I had it coming. She was a free spirit, and I was uptight. But--wellll, I presume you've watched the later cartoons of Tom and Jerry."

Buffy winced.

"Ouch. But you seem to have gotten past it all. A company. Respect."

He finished his work. He looked at Xander.

"You didn't tell her?"

Willow answered.

"My call, Dex. I don't think Buffy is prepared for the deep-down extent of Harmony's evil."

Xander pointed at the TV.

"See, Dex nicknamed his sister for her average grade in school. Later, he sold his story to Turner Broadcasting, which optioned it...welll, let's just say you've heard of it."

Buffy grabbed at her own heart.

"You mean, Harmony is......."

Dex stood, held his finger above the invisibility ray, and imitated the sisterly voice that had been the biggest part of his childhood hell.

"Ooooh.....what does *this* button do?"

* * *

**Fate Stares Blank Eyed  
**

MAY 19, 2004

She saw what was headed after them. Eve decided the wise thing to do was let  
the SP's have the bastards that killed Lindsey. Even if she could manage a  
rifle shot on one of them, that might only remind the partners of her failure  
and technical betrayal.

"Wisest thing, Evey--head for the suburbs."

Lindsey's little suburban hide-away was not truly safe from W&H, but then, what  
was? However, folks in the suburbs, having made it already to some extent, were  
less likely to directly seek out the demonic law firm, and to be more open  
about it when they did.

"In other words--chumps."

The Host was messing with her head. The showy little green demon was only  
playing tough like all his friends. He probably wasn't even there with them, at  
the big throwdown.

"Wait--if Angel killed Lindsey before he killed Hamilton---how did he have the  
time?"

Gunn. Had to have been. Lindsay always said it would be Angel or one of his top  
lieuies, if he got taken out. No flunkies. Well, against like umpteen thousand  
demons, mortals would tend to die first.

"Hope it hurts really bad, Charlie."

At last she pulled in. She had played this so smart, once Lindsay had suggested  
setting it up. She passed the requisition through for a safe-house, and maybe  
one person in all the company had actually seen it. Well beneath the notice of  
the Senior Partners.

"Knowing Lindsay, I'll bet he's even waiting for me. Geez--I wonder if his face  
and stuff are still attached."

Eve entered the small but comfortable home, and noticed that it looked  
different. A lot of her and Lindsay's things had been displaced. Everywhere she  
looked, there were small glass animals. Especially unicorns.

"Oh, c'mon. Do you know how long its been since I could even touch a unicorn's  
image?"

Then, she saw. Someone was wearing Lindsay's robe, and emerging from the  
bedroom. The nightmare ran up and hugged her, smiling like all the world was  
right. But it wasn't. Only Lorn had been right, damn him. Only Lorn.

"ROOMIE!!!!"

Eve would not be living in harmony. But she would be living with Harmony. And  
so she screamed. Her 'roomie' pulled back.

"Ok-ay! I'll put away SOME of the unicorns."

Eve suddenly wished she were in a certain alleyway.


	66. Counternuity

**Counternuity**  
by Rob Morris

**FALL, 1997**

As the two fictional women once again raced off their cliff on a now well-worn videotape, Joyce at last asked a question about the man she now knew she should have never brought home.

"Before the fight, what did Ted threaten you with?"

It was too soon, as Joyce now found out. Buffy didn't look at her, though it seemed to be the result of attention to the movie that by now they had both surely memorized, all the way down to the cringing deputy's submissive hand-gestures.

"So you believe now that he threatened me?"

Which stung. Where did the drugging begin and where did her own loneliness and its attendant willing suspension of common sense end? Cookies versus companionship. Not for the first time, Joyce wondered if the legendary movie now rolling its credits should have taken the former victim more to task for not doing earlier what she could have done, little though that was. How had a sensible business owner become one of those mothers you saw on the TV news, speaking in terms yet loving about their children's brutalizer, found one night in a bar?

"That's not fair."

Buffy reached over to the coffee table, and grabbed the copy of The Illiad that Willow had loaned her as a possible book report subject. She held it up

"Does the name Cassandra ring any bells?"

She put it down, stopped the tape and then began to rewind it for yet another viewing.

"Mom, let's not do this now, okay?"

A common hot button between mother and daughter was a poor reaction to the perception they were being told what to do.

"Look. I believe that he threatened you. That's obvious. I was wrong to ever believe him. But despite what that weaselly coward of a Principal says, you don't pick fights. So what did Ted do or say that got you so upset?"

What Buffy was about to tell her mother was a blatant but necessary lie. Yet it still contained enough of the truth to sidestep for now the world of the Vampire Slayer.

"He showed me a perfect copy of pages of my diary, complete with handwriting I would swear was my own. In this version, I was doing coke, heroin, and tons of alcohol. I was servicing both Willow and Xander, and did striptease at the Bronze to support it all. Ted said that if I didn't behave and let you and him happen, he would use what he had to have me locked away---in a mental health facility."

Until Joyce got an explanation about what looked like a crazy man turning into a cloud of dust and dirt some months from then, no words could have hit her harder.

"I wouldn't have let him do that to you. Not even if he gave me ten thousand trank-cookies."

Not true, she knew. The cookies and such had their desired effect. Only the prospect of actually seeing her daughter arrested for murder had even started to shake off Ted's eerie hold on her.

"Please, Mom. Just let it go. Ted is gone. He's not going to put either of us anywhere."

In her mind's eye, Joyce saw two docile fools with a marriage failing on many fronts sign their child into a place that was supposed to help. But almost immediately, the charges to their health care plan were triple what they'd been quoted. They began to find articles about the overuse of institutionalization with teenagers. They met other parents who told stories of teens who made Buffy's delusions seem like devotion to a favorite TV show by comparison. It had been a mistake. And it had not diminished the secretiveness one little bit.

"But honey--I would have stopped him, this time."

Buffy nodded, and looked over, one eye between tearing and not.

"And what about last time?"

She could take this bull by the horns. Confront the fact that committal should have been outpatient therapy. Tell her about the other family member in that clinic, and how fear of her had caused Joyce and Hank to trip. Tell her at long last that she was not quite as alone as she assumed. That someone she was already close to had been born that way.

"Let's watch T&L again, okay?"

But it was the wrong time for more heart-rending, therapeutic or otherwise. The confrontation couldn't go well, the one secret was stunning, and the other could even render her daughter catatonic.

"Good. I'll make more popped maize."

Joyce clamped down on her words perhaps a little too hard, then, leading later on to such stellar phrases as 'Can't you just stop being the Slayer?'.

"Pop the Corn On The Cob flavor, honey."

And it had to be this way, because driving off the cliff was not an option.


	67. No Room For Orlock

**No Room for Orlock**  
by Rob Morris

OCTOBER 26, 2002

Perhaps there was a conflict brewing between the two, or perhaps that conflict had been settled. Nonetheless, Xander had a few sodas and sandwiches set up when Buffy returned from nightly patrol, and he had seemingly enforced Dawn's new and much later curfew without incident. The Slayer was grateful for both, so they just sat down and watched one of the hundreds of specials on horror films that cropped up then like the Zapruder film in late November.

*In 1922, Director F.W. Murnau had plans to film a silent version of Bram Stoker's Dracula. But twin tragedies struck the set as a wild-eyed young woman killed actor Max Schreck, whose body then just disappeared. Further, Stoker's widow caught wind of the production, which was unauthorized, and threatened suit, ending the effort.*

Xander nodded.

"Guy dressed as vampire. Wild-eyed young woman. No body found. You don't suppose?"

Buffy just stared at the screen.

"This was like 'Cabinet Of Doctor Caligari', right? Geez, I wonder what the vamp would have looked like. Guess we'll never know."


	68. Dick Wilkins And The War Of The Worlds

**Dick Wilkins Fights The War Of The Worlds**  
by Rob Morris

SUNNYDALE, 1953

The students stood in wait. Their mayor was about to address them, and boy, were they keen on him!

"I sure do like Mayor Dick Wilkins, Junior!"

"He's almost as neat a mayor as Dick Wilkins, Senior!"

"Well, I think he's just even neater. Where's Jane got herself at?"

"Well, three months ago me and Jane had that terrific weekend date when her folks--weren't home-- but now she says she has to go away for six months."

"Those girls and their six-months sabbaticals. I saw my old girlfriend taking care of her younger cousin during one of them. He really kind of looked like my younger cousin, now that I think about it."

Now, all fell silent, as good American students always have, and always will, as their great Mayor entered the stage. He had news, though, that just wasn't great at all.

"Our red-blooded yet still mostly-segregated fighting men have fallen near Los Angeles. The dirty, filthy and possibly socialist Martian war ships have even shrugged off our terrific nation's ultimate weapon of pure peace--The Atomic Bomb!"

"No Fiddlin' Way!"

"Not The Big A!"

"We didn't even get to use it in Korea!"

The one true Mayor--for about the last half-century, anyway--held up his arms.

"But I say--The Valley Of The Sun---eerrr, I mean Sunnydale is a different place! By Gosh and Thunder, are we gonna let those Martians win?"

A humming was heard behind the crowd, and then a light seen. The Martian ship disintegrated everyone, except the Mayor, who had the Claw of Somebody-or-other for protection. He stood up, arms on his hips.

"Well, that was just rude! I could see their skeletons and everything. I mean, isn't it bad enough to have to see that sort of thing when vampires die?"

Curious, the Martians sent out a telescoping probe to directly view the Mayor. But at that moment, ash from the good citizens of Sunnydale blew into their Mayor's nose.

"AAAAHHH----CHOOOO!!!"

Wilkins looked on in horror at the tri-colored lens, now all covered in his--substance. It withdrew into the craft, and the ship pulled away. Wilkins cried out.

"Wait, I'm sorry! We're not all unsanitary!"

SEVEN DAYS LATER

Doctor Clayton Forrester, point scientist in mankind's effort against the Martians, shook Wilkins' hand.

"Mister Mayor, from your account, I am now certain that it was your sneeze that introduced the germs to the Martians that wiped them out. Must have been a nasty flu, too. We tried to keep the bodies for study, but they dissolved entirely. Just as well. Who knows if they could have somehow regenerated themselves, given enough time?"

It was that damned Master, Wilkins thought. He just had to wish the Plague of Porionas on him, just because Dick deported his barrier-eating demon. The man didn't have papers. Now, Dick realized, his human germs were responsible for a genocide. No one, he thought, should have to die that way. Other ways, but not that way.

"Tell me, Doctor Forrester, we will one day be headed out there?"

"Oh, yes. Mister Mayor, we will one day have restaurants, housing, amusement parks--maybe even drive-in movie theatres in space."

Now that last part caught Dick's attention.

"Movies in space? When might we have that?"

Forrester looked distant as he spoke.

"In the not-too distant future..."


	69. My Back Pages

My Back Pages  
by Rob Morris

MARCH, 2001, SUNNYDALE

"You have to totally promise not to tell Buffy, cause of she'll mope even further, and Tara, cause of I like her to think I've always been at least reasonably competent at magic."

Xander nodded.

"C'mon, Will. You and me, we showed each other--even back when we had nothing to show. Besides, it can't be that bad."

"No, it completely can. Completely. Can."

Xander winced.

"Can-Can?"

Willow gulped.

"With bloomers showing, scandalizing all of Gay Paree--so to speak."

Xander sat down, glad that Anja wasn't there to offer interpretations of what was being said.

"Give."

She hugged her oldest and dearest friend, who then stared at her.

"I meant--give with the bad thing."

"Sorry."

*And I told Tara she was just being paranoid, he thought.*

"Okay. Xander, remember when I re-cursed Angel?"

"Do I? You were aces. Did the job that needed doing."

She shook her head.

"Nope. I sort of left out a page."

Xander grabbed his forehead.

"That's not good, is it? Will, how could you leave out a page?"

She shrugged.

"I --sort of-- left out a page. I found out when Tara and I did spring cleaning. I used it, just in the wrong way. I thought it was just a primer, an instruction sheet to get the spell primed through complex invocations."

"But--it wasn't."

"No. I was supposed to use it as a refrain. I was supposed to break the Romany channeling, chant that stuff anew, resume the channeling, then ya know, lather, rinse, repeat. Only I didn't."

Xander held up an opened palm.

"Wait, wait. Quit worrying."

"But I do good at worrying. Unlike that spell."

He got up, shaking his head.

"Its small wonder we're friends. Because, you are just as big a jerk as me. Willow, think! Angel's had his soul back for over two years. He has a detective agency. He stops by, and him and me actually get along. Cordy even calls, and I tell her how many of the old clique that turned on her are knocked up, and she's happy. Its a huge percentage. Those girls were true airheads."

"Translation?"

He squeezed her hand as he had since forever.

"Meaning, pal of mine, you did well, and that missing or misused page has had no side-effects on Angel whatsoever!"

Willow got the last word.

"Yet."

* * *

LOS ANGELES, ROUGHLY WITHIN THE SAME TIME PERIOD

He had known true pleasure. Ecstasy. No more caring. No more beating his knuckles bloody against evil that he was just better off rejoining. No more love, only hate and desire.

Yet as Angel watched Darla sleeping in the afterglow of their love-making, a realization of the impossible suddenly dawned on him.

"I still have my soul?"


	70. Don't Get Mad

**Don't Get Mad**

by Rob Morris

SPAIN, NOVEMBER, 2003

On the train to the Gibraltar Ferry was Xander, having joined the Summers' girls in Europe at Buffy's request. After a while, the overly tanned middle-aged man next to him started chatting.

"Hey, is that eyepatch for real?"

Xander nodded.

"My depth perception says yes."

The guy started elbowing him.

"Must be a real chick-magnet."

Xander stared at the man, as though disbelieving something he knew to be true.

"Well, actually, I just got into a relationship with a lady I've known for some years. We kinda need each other, after some losses."

"Well, I just hope you don't bother settling for less than a hottie. For umpteen years, I was stuck to this ball and chain that knew how to do one thing--whine. Now, I've got me a secretary in damned near every Eurasian capital. That's the way to do it. So is she cheerleader hot, or one of those fragile eggheads?"

The man didn't see Xander's fist clench and unclench.

"Well, she used to be a cheerleader. One of the best. Fact is, she's a way hot blonde with a nice body and energy that doesn't stop. There's four things you should know about her."

"And they are?"

Xander leaned over and whispered.

"Well, last night I found out she loves to...."

"NO WAY!!!"

The chatty passenger looked ready to embarrass himself. So Xander kept on.

"And, she always starts out by...."

"wooooo-hoo-hooooooo!!!"

"And finally, we always finish up by...."

The grin the poor fool had made Xander's efforts all worth it. As the train pulled up to the terminus, he spotted Buffy, but the other passenger didn't.

"Hey, pal? So what's the fourth thing I should know about this nympho?"

Buffy walked into the train compartment, licked Xander on the cheek, and saw Hank Summers turn the whiter shade of pale. Buffy finished up for her for-now boyfriend.

"She's your daughter."


	71. ChampionKiller

**Champion-Killer**

by Rob Morris

Despite the funeral being hours away, Wes couldn't help but study the pit.

"These are some very large runes. My guess is that they tap directly into the Senior Partners' energies."

Angel stood back, not wishing to tempt fate at this point.

"I thought I saw tentacles. Jasmine?"

Wes shook his head.

"Holding even a renegade Power would be more trouble than even they could want. No. I think that as it awoke, it thrashed about so quickly that its motions seemed snake-like. There is a way to gain a clue, though."

"Lemme guess. Its dangerous."

"Not quite. Its just requires some concentration. Before our correspondence abruptly ceased, Willow told me of this spell. It won't always provide the solution. Usually, the best one can hope for is a pointer."

Angel almost felt like breathing.

"Considering that they could have pulled this thing in from anywhere, in any dimension, a pointer would be nice."

Wes concentrated, and held out an opened hand while chanting under his breath. Suddenly, of all things, a comic book appeared. He stared at it.

"I think we should go upstairs. Far upstairs."

He handed Angel the comic book. It was 'Superman #75', the memorable issue which featured the death of the hero at the hands of an unstoppable creature. Angel shook, just a bit.

"Wes, I don't care about the rest of this place. But the pit gets maxed-out on security, ASAP. No delays."


	72. Done By The Dew

**Done By the Dew**

by Rob Morris

Gunn just shrugged.

"This is classic you, Angel. And I'll bet you'd be just as frumpy if you reached the cup first."

Angel repeated what had almost become his mantra.

"Spike just wanted it more. If the cup had been real, he'd be human, right now--and flying off to Europe, to be with her."

"You're assuming he'd seek her out, first thing, and that she'd have him. Didn't she hook up with that nerd-pal of hers?"

Angel looked straight at him.

"Andrew?"

Gunn gulped. Spike's stories had told them all of last year's details in fallen Sunnydale.

"No. Umm--eye-patch guy?"

"Well, he's convinced he's only a temp. But Spike would go to her, eventually, if he could. And I can't. And I couldn't, even if the damned thing had been true."

Gunn tried again, despite knowing better.

"Part of the reason I'm here today is that I failed to save my sister. Now, that's zero-one, man. Either I saved her, or I didn't. Tricks don't matter. And all they did was kidnap and kill her. There was no one playing extra games with my head, til after I found her. In your case, though? You have Spike, who you have an intense history with, a lot of times over the same woman. As to him wanting it more? Yeah, I think he did."

"See?"

"No, Angel. He wanted it for more than just sunlight, Applebee's and garlic bread. More than even for Buffy. More than even wanting to beat you."

Angel was confused.

"Than for what? Not getting his stolen Slayer-skin leather jacket dusted when he goes?"

"Deep disturbing imagery aside, Angel--think! Before all this started, Spike was a ghost. I was already contacting the backpack gents in NYC to come in and bust his pale ass off to the main containment chamber."

"Your point being?"

"Gahh! Okay...he wasn't just fighting to maybe get human. He prolly thought, if he lost, not only would he not be snuggling with the Slayer, but he'd be back among the dead-ites--and fighting against that, I think anyone could give you a run."

When Angel just continued sitting there, Gunn walked out with some choice last words.

"If I'd saved my sister, I'dve done what Spike is likely doing right now--celebrating. But you--you mourn victory the same as defeat. Not Spike, though. Pushy, obnoxious. Yep. But when he's won, he's won. Chew on that."

Several offices and a hi-tech sound-baffle away, Fred walked into the darkened office and saw Spike. The vampire repeated what had become for him a mantra.

"I know his games. He bloody well let me win."


	73. Buffy NewtonJohn

**Buffy Newton-John**  
by Rob Morris

(Spike falls asleep as Olivia Newton-John sings on the radio; He sees  
her morph into Buffy as his reality invades)

You came in when I finished off The Master  
I grew to loath you more each passing day  
Before too long Angel lost his soul's hold  
And I prayed that you'd stay still enough to slay

If you love me don't say so  
If you don't then please just go  
I can't take another minute  
Of a day that has you in it

If you love me prepare to flee  
If you don't then just go free  
Take the plot twist away  
That keeps me wanting you

The arms that choked a thousand decent people

The hands that touched that skanky Harmony

The smile that says "wait till I get the chip out"  
Anytime I turn around to punch you there

It's this and so much more that make me wonder

What else can I do to make you finally leave  
You know you have to finally get it through you

That a love affair this gross can never be

If you love me don't say so  
If you don't then please just go

I can't take another minute  
Of Dru's ex with whom I sin it

If you love me away I'll lurch  
While Wil and Xander do the research

That Takes the plot away  
That keep me jumping you

Take the nerds with you  
While You're At It....Too...

(Spike awakes with a start; Smashes the radio)

Spike: Is there a bigger loser than me?

(He goes outside and sees a shaking Xander)

Xander: Get away, Spike! She's coming! SHE'S COMING!!!

Spike: Who?

Xander: Too late!

(An angel appears in the sky above them; Its Anja)

Spike: Bloody hell--does this nightmare never end?

(Anja shakes her head)

Anja: (Singing) We've Only Just Begun...... 


	74. Angel Had A Better Run

Angel Had a Better Run  
by Rob Morris

(To the tune of 'Angel Is A Centerfold')

We had walked; We had talked;  
Our affair was near complete;  
My Souled-Vampire Angel left to make LA his seat

We would guest each other; Til Glory tried to reign; The lines of  
contact broke down; When this Slayer was slain

With S6 done I'm lookin' through a fan-boy magazine; And there's my  
souled-vamp Angel being rated above Me!

My stories weren't fun  
My supporting cast looked almost done;  
My Angel Had A Better Run  
Angel Had Fred, Wes and Gunn

Willow did magic under her breath  
Fred's folks weren't there to cause her death; Cordy fought off her  
cliches--while we all embraced ours

We were shaking Tara loose; While Wes decided to play things cool; I  
whined for the Ripper to stay; But then so did the fans

Those truly novel plot twists; Which we once laid claim to; While Darla  
gave her unlife up; We had a Xander bad ship' redo

My stories weren't fun  
My supporting cast looked almost done;  
My Angel Had A Better Run  
Angel Had Cord, Lorn and Gunn

I think that we might soon bounce back;  
but even decent characters like Rack;  
Make my pressure start to flip; When compared to friendly demon Skip

Take your law firm, yes we would; We'd take them in a minute; You take  
the nerds to your hotel and kill em' all real slowly

The growing pains are now all done  
The time to rest and have some fun;  
Oh, no, we're not gonna deep freeze;  
At least we're not; sleepin' with the fishies

(The Scoobies join in and dance with her)

The stories will rebound  
The supporting cast earned another round; My Angel now is almost drowned  
None of his pals were around;  
Na-na-na-na-na-na-na-na-na!

(Anya gets a twinge)

Anya: Sorry, gotta go

(Disappears; Reappears)

Xander: Who wanted vengeance? You found someone to wish on me?

Anya: No.

Buffy: The Nerds?

Anya: No.

Willow: That hell-thingy Dark Me almost summoned?

Dawn: Amy? The fans?

Anya: No--it was Ang.....

(A giant tidal wave crashes into Sunnydale)


	75. Fight Goes On

**Fight Goes On**  
by Rob Morris

(To the tune of 'Ob-li-di, Ob-la-da' from the Beatles White Album)

(Xander is putting Willow to bed after the finale; sits by her, sings; Not sure why she's there, Anya watches from a remove, perhaps to keep a yet-angry Dawn from inadvertedly saying something)

X: *Buffy was a Slayer moved to Sunnydale; Figured hard on making a new start; Giles said to Buffy; It Can't Be That Way; The Vamp Master you must now stab through the heart;

So You See--So You Know, Fight Goes On; Yeah; Slayer--how the fight goes on

Slayer met some friends who helped her get by; Willow, Xander and Cordelia Chase; Angel was a friend too but not for too long; She chose him in hell stead' of the human race

So You See--So You Know, Fight Goes On; Yeah; Slayer--how the fight goes on

Within three months she had left and come back home; We gave her crap, but she made Faith back off; The Mayor she reduced to bones

Happy ever after not in college plans; Adam was a cyber-demon-man; Did the Mulder riff with the Initiative; and dreamed of cheesehead after comboing down their plan

So You See--So You Know, Fight Goes On; Yeah; Slayer--how the fight goes on

Dawnie was a retcon who we still all like; Glory wanted to get Dawn in her hands; Buffy did a Goku on the Apocalypse; and we all weeped hard as we tried to understand

Willow (stirring) Who's Gok...

X: Shh..explain later

(Finishes up)

X: Growing up is real hard almost anywhere; Sunnydale makes that fact twice as clear; Adding up our mistakes made things quite a drag; But we can now say that we somehow got through this year

In a couple of years, we will find a way to see; That if we got through this harsh stretch; There even is hope for me

There are those we will never quite forget; There are those we will never forgive; But the time for death it has come and gone--and maybe we can finally all live;

So You See--So You Know, Fight Goes On; Yeah; Slayer--how the fight goes on

So You See--So You Know, Fight Goes On; Yeah; Slayer--how the fight goes on

(Kisses her on the forehead as she fades out, a slight smile having formed)

X: And if you want better jokes--then go hire Weird Al.

(Eases out; Anya is holding a CD of The White Album)

Anya: That was from this, right? Why is the album white with just their name? Minimalism?

(Appreciating her temporary avoidance of other subjects, Xander explains)

X: No. They were already starting to break up when they made this. They couldn't even agree on what the cover should look like. So the publisher just went with this.

Anya: (Shrugs) A group as brilliant as them lost the ability to work together?

(Sensing danger in an answer, Xander withdraws to get Will some water; Anya still stares at the cover)

Anya: Why am I sensing lots of heavily-laden irony here?


	76. The Day Old Sunnydale Went Down

**The Day Old Sunnydale Went Down**

by Rob Morris

(To the tune of 'The Night They Drove Old Dixie Down')

Buffy Summers is my name and vampires I do slay;  
And each year the Big Bad shows its face til we send it to Hell again

In the Fall of 2002, we were ready, or so we all knew

I took a job at the school that once fell  
But Spike was tortured by the First Evil  
The Day Old Sunnydale Went Down

And all the girls were dying'  
The Day Old Sunnydale Went Down  
And all the Bads were morphing  
They went, 'Its not about right or wrong' Wrong, wrong, wronga wronga  
wronga wrong

Raising my sister made of memories  
One day she almost said to me,  
"Buffy, Quick! Come Look!  
I see our dead Mommy."  
Now I understand, its all in the game  
And I don't care if I never get fame  
Just you take on me and I'll do the risk  
But it should never have messed with my little sis

The Day Old Sunnydale Went Down  
And all the Watchers were dying  
The Day Old Sunnydale Went Down  
And all the people were leaving  
They went 'I've had enough-enough-enough- enough -nuff'

Like the problems before this, I had to find a plan  
And like the Slayers before me, I sought a final stand  
Oh, we were wounded, led by Faith and me  
But a revolt then caused me to flee  
I found the dual-scythe and put Caleb away  
Now the First was gonna face its own Judgement Day

The Day Old Sunnydale Went Down  
And Spike and Anya were lost  
The Day Old Sunnydale Went Down  
And all the streets collapsing  
The Day Old Sunnydale Went Down  
And the Potentials awakened  
The Day Old Sunnydale Went Down  
To The First Evil we went :  
Na, na, na, na, na, na, na, na, na, na, na .....


	77. Willow A Filk

**Willow**  
by Rob Morris

(To the tune of 'Guinevere' from Lerner&Loewe's Musical 'Camelot')

Willow saw Tara fall  
And Osiris balked her call

And as Warren ran to ground  
Willow swore he would be found

On that night, through Slayer's way,  
Willow cut his skin away

Cried the pained witch, let all know  
There are yet two more to go

Slayer and friends could not fail  
And they hied then to the jail

But would Willow, blind with tears;  
Also kill those she held dear?

Said the fleeing Jonathan this isn't like her at all

And Willow wagered true that she could sure take them all

With her focus yet off as it had been all that year  
The Slayer fell against Willow blind with tears

Rupert Giles then at last returned  
With the power he had earned

But his bindings fell away  
Willow declared a Judgment Day

Then toward the cemetery she crafted a fiery ball;  
Declaring quite profanely that it could consume them all

And so with greater powers than ever she went and disappeared;  
Her vow to end this cold veil of tears

The two targets went and fled  
Dawn and Buffy fought the dead

But there was one who fell in gear  
And feared not Willow, blind with tears

On that day, on that hill  
Somehow Xander found the will

Calming magic she'd been fed  
But only he could reach heart and head

He spoke in his best voice even as he was told to flee

And Xander said with force that you can not get rid of me

For as I loved the Small Willow and The Willow of Many Fears;  
So I Do Surely Love Now Her Blind With Tears;

Blind With Tears; Blind With Tears; He Held Willow; Blind With Tears;

From her grave at last the Slayer came; and the world it kept its frame;  
More than friends again, more than a team, was the rebirth of a dream...


	78. BTVS Tales Of December

Buffy Christmas Stories

* * *

Marshmallow World  
by Rob Morris

DECEMBER 25TH, 1998

Oz needed to think some things out. Faith went looking for another party. Angel was plainly exhausted. So it was that at about twelve noon, Buffy, Willow, Xander and Joyce went out and took advantage of the miraculous snowfall before California's balmy weather reasserted itself.

In the middle of a snowball fight with Xander and Joyce, Willow saw Buffy pushing a large, round mound of snow together and compacting it.

"Ya know, that's way too big for a snowman base."

Buffy gently pointed her away.

"Its not for a snowman. Now shoo."

Willow chuckled.

"Well, there's no need to get violent on me."

Buffy looked at her.

"Maybe sometimes violence is called for."

Which rang a bell in Willow's head, but it was one she ignored in favor of nailing Xander with a back-shot of icy kisses.

Taking her break from the fight, Joyce pointed at the mound of snow Buffy was still building up.

"That's way too big for a snowman base, honey."

Buffy just smiled and kept compacting her circle.

"Its not for a snowman, Mom. Its for therapy."

"Strange therapy."

The Slayer shrugged.

"So? Buffy's not perfect."

As with Willow, Joyce felt a twinge at that, but a laughing Willow in the distance made too tempting a target, and she resumed.

Having given as good as he got, Xander walked over to Buffy and made a pithy, insightful, wholly unique observation. Buffy responded to it in kind.

"Its not for a snowman."

He nodded.

"So why don't you come and join us in the snow war?"

Buffy nodded.

"Eventually. Can't you do without me for just a little while, though?"

The words and tone themselves told Harris nothing. But an odd sense of deja vu crept in, and wouldn't be put out. But as he returned to snowball fighting, he, Joyce and Willow ran about, seeking advantage until they came to a snow-drifted cul-de-sac over a hill.

It was then they heard Buffy's voice.

"Guys, remember when I ran off last spring? And how that made all of you so upset, angry and nervous?"

The three wondered at this.

"Hey, Buff, we forgave you, Okay?"

"Buffy, that is sooo way in the past now. We don't need any more apologies."

"Willow and Xander are right, honey. That all got sorted out. Now, come down and join us."

Still over the rise, Buffy kept on.

"Nope. I was a jerk. I left you alone, and I couldn't have done it in a worse way. So I need you guys to promise me something."

"Anything."

"More than anything."

"Buffy, you know that."

Getting closer now, her voice was heard ever more clearly.

"Promise me, that if I ever pull a bonehead maneuver like that again, and if I come crawling back, begging forgiveness..."

The three gasped. Buffy was now visible. She held above her head what they had mistaken for a large snowman base, and she was quite ready to throw it, a large grin on her face.

"....that you will try to be a whole lot nicer to me. Happy Holidays!"

**Church and State**  
by Rob Morris

DECEMBER 24TH, 1999

THE INITIATIVE

Maggie stared in delight at the burgeoning cells inside the main Hostile lockup. Thanks to all this material, 314 would be born on the most possible appropriate day for the new Adam. She would be through the night slicing and splicing, but it would all be worth it.

"Who knows? In 100 years, it could just be that tomorrow is remembered for another birth."

Doctor Angleman walked up, holding a package, and apparently quite excited about whatever it contained.

"We had a hostile targeted, but his hired demons were too much to be worth the effort in acquiring and or destroying it. He did, however, barter for safe passage out of town. We checked it for malevolent energies, but it's all positive."

Walsh was a bit disgusted to hear of barter instead of acquisition, but decided to concentrate on the item inside the package, a cylandrical-tending urn.

"Its a Syrian light-catcher. What's the vintage?"

He grinned.

"4 BCE. The markings indicate it was the property of Melchior--yes, that Melchior."

She held it up.

"Light captured from the Star Of Bethlehem? Let's see if its legit. Texts say it had a certain feel. So we open it..."

There was a bright flash. When their vision cleared, so had every cell. Their demonic occupants were now ash-piles, and 314 was now set back at least two months. Walsh bit down, then spoke.

"When we write the report, we'll just say that, unknown to us, one of the hostiles was a teleporter."

Angleman considered saying the 'MC' words as he left, but thought better of it.

**Whisper What You'll Bring to Me**  
by Rob Morris

SUNNYDALE, DECEMBER 24TH, 2000

In her by-definition unworthy temporary base of operations, Glory shut off the TV, shaking her head.

"WHEN are those people finally gonna let that nice Angelica beat those babies?"

For whatever reason, Ben was not fighting to get out, so she decided to sleep and dream of the life she'd get back when she got what she came for.

"What is it with those bells outside...?"

Bored, she fell asleep. When she awoke the next morning, her mind was happily free of either Ben's pushing or the building madness. Her body, though, was swimming in a dark, hard, dusty substance. Finally, her head broke the surface.

"HO-KAY! Just WHO filled MY earthly abode from floor to ceiling with freakin' coal?!"

* * *

SOMEWHERE NORTH OF SUNNYDALE...AND MOST OTHER PLACES WE KNOW OF

The older-looking woman added Oxygen-Cleanser to this cycle, hoping by next year to restore her husband's mostly red suit and wash out the dark dust that suffused it, the result of an unprecedented delivery. On a monitor, she saw Glory's head sticking out from underneath the sooty pile of rocks. She smiled.

"It's the little things that make this job worth while."

* * *

**The Dry Palms**  
by Rob Morris

December 23rd, 2001

Sunnydale

In his box, he carried a gallon of red wine, six-packs of cheap champagne in cans, and tall bottles of musketel, and ripple.

"Isn't it a conflict of interest to celebrate, ya know?"

In her box, she carried bourbon, whiskey, a huge can of beer with a name she couldn't pronounce, and a hideous decanter meant to look like a famous general but really didn't.

"Not really. I mean, it really just took over from the festival of Mithras. That is, in terms of date celebrated."

Together, they had spent an hour picking out these things just so, fear in their voices, sweat on their faces, anxiously rechecking the lists.

"Xander, how is she?"

He jostled his box, yet it did not drop.

"Tara, you made the right choice. She was out of control. I love her, always have, always will. But we both know she had to hit bottom."

She appeared to trip, but her box seemed in no danger.

"All I can remember is the look on Dawn's face as I left."

He acted as if the bottom on his box were about to fall out.

"All I can remember is the look on Dawn's face as I changed her ace bandage."

For no apparent reason, she shook her box as though it were far too heavy to carry any further.

"I've had nightmares about Willow draining me to get more magic. Then I have nightmares where she needs me, but I can't help her."

His box tipped two ways before he steadied it.

"I've had nightmares where all of them decide that the exclusion they pushed on me during that Hellmouth rising two years back is made permanent, by Willow's suggestion. Then I see Will change into a comic book character named Jean Grey. Short version : That story had a bad ending."

She pointed out a spot, and he agreed by nodding.

"I'm glad she'll always have you."

He sealed his box's top and bottom with duct tape, and then did the same with hers.

"Me she has. You she needs, lady."

As one, the two smashed their boxes upon the ground. The glass inside shattered, and all the hard liquor contained therein leaked out and was wasted. They each spoke in a monotone.

"Wow, Xander. All that booze my parents sent me out to fetch. All their good holiday booze money wasted. You and I are likely due for punishment. From both our families."

"Oh, Tara. I am in so much trouble. Its my job to get the stuff from the liquor store. The owner knows my folks very well, so he lets me carry it. What will they all do without their holiday booze?"

They picked up the boxes they had carried as children and been warned by hellfire torrents of yelling never to drop, spill, break or lose.

"I may not be simon-pure on this garbage. But I am going to fight like hell not to see Christmas through a gin-soak."

He threw his box into the dumpster.

"Festivals of rebirth should not be marked by numbing all your senses. Whatever we celebrate, we reject this notion and all its works."

She threw her box into the dumpster.

They made for Buffy's, where Willow tried hard to keep herself together in the presence of the one she loved, heart, body and soul. Only one incident even broke the surface.

"Tara, I'm totally not accusing or suspecting, or even thinking that you were talking about me. But did something happen between you and Xander?"

It was a secret she took with her when she left this Earth.

"Hmm? Oh, we talked. Had a drink. Reminisced. And yes, we did talk about you. Good-wise talking."

Later that night, Tara and Xander clicked glasses filled with egg-nog dangerous solely for its sugar and fat content. Grief lay ahead and behind, but for then and there they all knew Peace On Earth.

* * *

**Eight and Twelve**  
by Rob Morris

DECEMBER 15TH, 2002

Sensing that the First might again choose the symbol of Christmas to launch a major attack, Willow and Xander moved up a major ritual in their lives by about a week. The young boy with the blanket finished onscreen.

*...a savior, who is Christ The Lord. That's what Christmas is all about, Charlie Brown.*

The finale of the venerable special played through, and Willow got up.

"Time to settle this, once and for all."

Xander displayed his usual level of comprehension.

"Time to settle what? C'mon, Will. The DVD even has an extra Charlie Brown special on it."

Willow grabbed up an old Magic 8-Ball.

"Noper. Its time to find out who's right. I mean, we don't carry around Stars Of David to repel them, right?"

Xander waved his arms.

"But we COULD. Willow, its all about faith. Your family has always been a little on the secular side, right? And nowadays, you're a Wiccan. I heard enough anti-Semitic garbage growing up in Harris-ville to know we shouldn't go here. Plus, suppose someone tweaks the answer we get?"

She shook her head.

"Knowledge is power, to quote Schoolhouse Rock. Xander, I cry when I hear Linus make that speech, but I know I'm not supposed to. Well, I aim to make an honest man out of Mister Van Pelt."

Xander couldn't imagine why this was more difficult than getting her to not end the world.

"Faith of our fathers, and like that? Will, my family uses this time as a new excuse to get loaded. So did Tara's. I don't know where we get the answers. I don't know where we get the questions. I don't even know what line we stand on to sign up for the test. We're young and stupid. Let's enjoy our festival of videos and Santa-songs and gift certificates and listening to bitter commentators talk about how its lost all meaning. We'll fig the rest as we get older."

She threw the ball up, and it began to sparkle.

"And if we none of us don't live to get to get older?"

He made a last futile plea.

"Then we'll definitely find out?"

The ball came down. Willow shook it, and asked her question.

"Without riddle, or other vagueness, I bid thee yield a direct and a true answer. Who was the person known as Yeshua-Bar-Yossef and Jesus Of Nazareth?"

The ball shook, and then settled. Willow read the answer-window. She winced. Xander shrugged.

"What's it say? The Messiah? A Prophet? An ordinary man? Replies Hazy?"

Willow threw it to him, and sat down to sulk.

"See for yourself."

Xander did, and in reading it, stifled a laugh, knowing the kind of mood his oldest friend was in. It only said four words:

*He Was A Jew*

Consoling her, Xander grabbed up his football, deciding to access a Peanuts tradition of a more secular sort, finding as he always did that part of his faith resided solely in Willow


	79. A Summers Song

A Summers Song 

(To the tune of 'A Summer Song' by Chad and Jeremy)

Scoobs slayin' with that Summers girl  
Saving then this whole wide world  
As we all watched

Tough storylines were given sway  
And who couldn't stay away  
Was my friends and I

Characters glad to come and sad to go  
Villains who would steal the show  
And internal strife

They say seven seasons is the norm these days  
Ratings start to fall  
But don't you know TV it stinks so  
And worse so without you  
The demons tried to make skies red  
You'd cut off their head

And when Syndie butchers  
Scenes and order run  
DVD's will save the fun  
of our Slayer True

They had 'All Good Things' at ST:TNG's end  
DS9 'What You Leave Behind'  
But Voy's 'Endgame' was a rotten shame  
Herc and Xena's made us sick  
'Chosen' should have been two hours thick  
But it's still our pick

And when the pain  
of losing your show starts to wane;  
I'll think of Summers' slays again  
And write some fic  
And write some fic


	80. What Are You Saiyen?

**What are You Saiyen?**  
by Rob Morris

THE SUMMERS' HOME, JANUARY 22, 2003

Andrew woke up on the floor. He was alone.

"Hey, did you guys totally go out and fight evil without me?"

A voice came from the darkness.

"They left you behind."

Andrew squinted. It was a tall man with even taller dark hair.

"Oh, they wouldn't do that. They need me to join the Doos."

The voice again.

"Need you, fool? Why in the name of all that is strong would they need someone like you?"

Andrew felt a familiar twinge at the voice.

"Lots of things. I can fight, I know some magic, and I tell good jokes."

The voice chuckled.

"The one girl is a born warrior. The other is a born witch. And not only are you not as funny as the carpenter, but you'll note none of the younger girls burst in on your shower!"

Andrew gulped.

"Hey, that's not fair. Anya was over, and she was bragging on his thing, and they all got curious. Its just like in Gen13 when Grunge kept peeping on Fairchild..."

A loud shout cut off this newest reference.

"SILENCE! Have you ever known even the slightest touch of any kind of lover? No, don't answer that. I'm here to kill you, Andrew."

Andrew gulped very hard.

"Well, come out and do it, then! Just-just turn on the lights before you do. I've earned the right to see the face of my killer."

The voice sank.

"No, you haven't. But I will let you see my face--by turning on my light! AAAAAHHHH!"

The man's dark hair lit up as he screamed. It turned golden, revealing the muscular figure's form. He sneered at Andrew.

"HOW DARE such as you compare yourself to the Prince Of All Saiyens! You aren't even fit to fight Roschi's Turtle!"

Andrew sank to his knees, cried and begged, and basically became even more pathetic.

"Prince Vegeta, I'm sooo sorry. Tell me, did Goku use instant transmit to get you here?"

Vegeta smiled.

"You say you're sorry? Very well. Then write down that you are so 100,000 times."

Andrew stood up smiling.

"I can handle that with a Go To program. Or does it have to be by hand? Cause my hand really cramps up."

Vegeta raised his opened palm, and held it in front of Andrew.

"You'll find you have no such cramping..."

An energy blast obliterated Andrew.

"....in the Next Dimension!"

Above the sleeping Andrew, Xander nodded. Willow checked her texts.

"We can do this to him three more times. Who's next?"

Xander smiled.

"The Legion Of Doom!"

Luthor laughed.

"Sinestro, use your yellow power ring to change this fool into a mindless monster with which to destroy the Superfriends!"

Andrew pleaded.

"Lex, please! I can tell you all about the Crisis, the reboot--Smallville!"


	81. Wall Number 4

**Wall Number 4**  
by Rob Morris

His dad would likely demand payment for the ruined wedding.

Anja's buds were likely cooking up the vengeance scheme of all times.

His female friends would likely be a bit less understanding than normal.

Going back to, or even keeping his current apartment was iffy, at best.

The tuxedo was still rented, and now would probably carry an extra cleaning charge.

Walking away, leaving Anja to tell the bad news alone was something he'd never forgive himself for.

Somehow, he sensed this would leak to the entire town.

He said the words.

"Joss, could we just skip to late May?"


	82. Traveling Companion

**Traveling Companion**  
by Rob Morris

"Here we are. Africa. At night."

"I'll give you cred. That was fast."

"Did you expect any less?"

"Not---really."

Walking through the conjured portal, Spike nodded in satisfaction. Instant transport, no fee involved. He had to resolve this torture quickly, or stake himself. Soon he would begin the fight to gain back his soul, and give Buffy what she really deserved—a man.

"Thanks loads, mate. Why do you do this sort of thing? And gratis at that? Being who you are, you could charge really big time."

Ares shrugged.

"Just a tradition I started in the Hellenic Age."

Dedicated to the memory of the 'other' Kevin Smith, and his work on Hercules & Xena


	83. The Young Actress

**The Young Actress**  
by Rob Morris

FLORIDA, OCTOBER, 1996

That the call came through at all was a shock to her. Yes, she'd read for the part. Yes, she definitely wanted the part. But combine her reputation with all the publicity surrounding the launch, and they had to know what they were up against.

"No, I'm sorry. Mister Whedon, its like I told you when I read. This project is going to keep me away for--well, I think you've read the papers."

The training drills and rehearsals had been far too intense. To contemplate another job, even for a role as potentially meaty as that of Buffy Summers, was to risk falling back into the trap of addiction she'd only narrowly avoided being destroyed by. She'd never been that bad. But she could easily have gotten there, had her family not so noisily intervened.

"I know, I know. But I read basically as a lark. I never thought that you'd ever choose me. To be frank-I'm not sure I would have chosen me. My approach has never had the angst a role like Buffy's really needs. My training as an Annie makes me a mite too optimistic. Wait--wasn't one of the others Kendall from 'All My Children'? Well, there you go! No, she was the entire reason I watched that show. Ms. Lucci had a run-in with my mother at a party. Said we were all space-cases--ha-ha. If you pick her, you've got that whole, friend to some, fiend to others aspect down pat. Cordelia? Trust someone who's stupid enough to read her own reviews, Mister Whedon. If you put her in that role, people will say 'Kendall 2', and that will be that. I really think so. Well, good luck to you, too, though I hope we're depending on more than just luck. This, as they say, is really Off-Off Broadway."

Hanging up, she found her 9-year old brother nearby, looking through the script fragment for the series she'd just refused.

"Is she some kind of modern-day Xena?"

Grateful that he nowadays cleaned his hands after eating peanut butter and jelly, she nodded. "Its a bit more complicated than that. This producer has some deep plans for the storyline, if it should all pan out."

He shook his head.

"He made up some of these demon names."

Gently, she took the script back, and tweaked his nose.

"Not all of us can be kid geniuses."

He smiled, glad that he got along better with this sister than the one closer to him in age.

"Well, you'dve been great for the part, sis. Too bad we'll all be asleep if and when this show really hits."

As he left, that thought hit her, too, as it had before. Cryo-stasis for as much as a century, although hopefully more like a quarter-century. The mind boggled, and her mind was sharper than most. At least, she chuckled inwardly, it would force the kid sibs to act civilly towards each other for once. Seeing the mission pilot in the distance, she determined once again to catch his eye, 'jail-bait' comments aside.

"After all, this script would have had me falling for a brooding, handsome, older man."

Putting aside all thoughts of Buffy Summers and fighting monsters, Doctor Judy Robinson went to chat up Major Don West, all in the sight of the spacebound Jupiter 2.


	84. Riley Unknown

**Riley Unknown**

by Rob Morris

**SUNNYDALE PIT, 2003**

Agent Finn pointed up, and gave the visiting official a view to remember.

"Is that an iceberg?"

"Yes, sir. We've been flying them in from the North Atlantic shipping lanes for the wildfires, but this one is special, blessed by every major light-oriented holy figure we could find. Once it melts, Lake Sunnydale's biggest problem will be those zebra shellfish I've heard tell of."

The man put down the binoculars.

"I suppose, seeing all this and footage of the carnage in LA, any black ops distraction--even a recall that cost me my job--can be justified. I feel bad for my successor, though. Did you have to plant so many women making those kind of claims?"

"Governor Wilson understood, sir. So long as California is a hotbed for this kind of activity, our officials have to be ready to fall at a moment's notice. People don't understand politics any better than magic--but they do know how to grumble about it. We even have the President himself on such notice, in case the cult of the demon N'Ran makes one last attempt to drain this nation's power grid. Sad, but it is a Texas-based entity."

The soon-to-be ex-governor nodded.

"I just hope I can get with Arnold, and defeat the motion before I leave."

Riley looked over.

"What motion, sir?"

"Oh, well. The Assembly wants to name this place for Lake Wilkins. A bunch of people owed him old political favors. Carry on, Agent Finn."

Samantha walked up, having done a thrice-daily GPS check on the east-bound 'Slayer Schoolbus'.

"Did I hear that correctly? Lake Wilkins?"

Riley grabbed his forehead.

"Honey, politicians operate in a world we will never understand."


	85. Real Time

**Real Time**  
by Rob Morris

Andrew was in a cramped, dim little world mixed of denial and plain stupidity.

"You-you don't suppose he actually finds that slutty Slayer attractive, do you? I mean, she does guys she hates, right? So how could she not want a man like Warren--hypothetically speaking, of course."

Jonathan sat and awaited paperwork that was long in coming. The robbery had been thwarted, after all. They were harmless in the eyes of the police, and therefore no priority to process.

"I can't feel any lower."

Then he heard the officers in a frenzy.

"There's been a multiple shooting. One female victim wounded, one dead. Address in question is..."

The Slayer's place. Damn Warren if he wasn't already. Why? What was the point, now? Not that there ever had been a point, he realized anew.

"Good. I hope--I hope Warren got em' all."

Jonathan let Andrew slip back while he considered anew every wrong turn he'd taken.

"We were trying to take over the world. Warren wanted to hit on girls and beat up jocks. All in all, I'd rather have beaten up the jocks, given the orbs to the Slayer, and left town. But Warren would tell me 'Wait, Little Man--I'm not so sure that's an idea...' How the hell did I get to be the nerd among nerds?"

By not asking questions or showing spine, he knew. While Andrew still babbled, Jonathan prayed.

*God, I know I completely don't deserve it. But if you could show me that somewhere is a bigger loser than me, I'll do ten times whatever I have to to make up for what I did.*

CNN was playing, and his attention drifted to that.

"The 21-year old has confessed to planting pipe bombs across the Midwest in an effort to quote "Spread his message. Well, that message is likely to be lost due to his own actions..."

Jonathan asked to be escorted to the bathroom, having been given his sign. He stopped at the desk, however.

"Look, just ignore my friend over there. He doesn't mean to spew that anti-police stuff. He especially didn't mean the P-word. Just--go easy on him, alright, sir?"

Andrew awoke from his monologue to see a room full of cops glaring at him.

"What are you all staring at?"

(This was based on a real life story in the news about the same time as the end of Buffy S6)


	86. Mobile Suit Geek Dumb

**Mobile Suit Geek Dumb**  
by Rob Morris

The First stared, not really sure if this turn served him.

Xander stared, saying several prayers of thanks that he had never quite been this pathetic. He also reminded himself anew that the hot model from the toy commercials never actually made a model in her life.

Willow stared, wondering if her own casting off of terminal nerd-dom had raised up the truly lost.

Buffy couldn't bring herself to stare. She couldn't even bring herself to wonder how in the world Andrew had constructed a brightly colored battle suit out of one of those Japanese cartoons. It was over 100 feet tall, and had the prerequisite shield and power-saber. Andrew cried out from the cockpit.

"Level 4300---No Life!"

(Based on an old commercial for Gundam model kits)


End file.
